Thunderhead (Arc of a Scythe #2)(116)

Kahlo waved him off like an annoying fly, and took her seat on the onyx throne.

The last to arrive was Xenocrates.

“Good of you to deign us with your presence,” said Kahlo, with sarcasm enough to wax the entire marble floor to a reflective sheen.

“Sorry,” he said. “Elevator issues.”

With the council’s Clerk and Parliamentarian in place on either side of Supreme Blade Kahlo, she instructed a few underscythes to go to the various antechambers of the council complex and get the day started. It was no secret what today’s first order of business was. The MidMerican matter was a concern that affected more than just that part of the world. It could have a lasting impact on the scythedom as a whole.

Even so, Supreme Blade Kahlo reclined in her uncomfortable seat, and played blasé. “Will this at least be entertaining, Xenocrates, or will we be bored with hours of pointless blathering?”

“Well,” said Xenocrates, “if there’s one thing I can say about Goddard, he’s always entertaining.” Although the way he said it did not imply that entertainment was a good thing. “He’s prepared a . . . a surprise for you that I think you’re all going like.”

“I despise surprises,” said Kahlo.

“You won’t despise this one.”

“I hear that Scythe Anastasia is quite the dynamo,” said Grandslayer Nzinga, sitting straight and proper, perhaps to counterbalance the Supreme Blade’s sideways slouch. Grandslayer Hideyoshi harrumphed his disapproval of the upstart junior scythe, or perhaps junior scythes in general, but offered nothing more to the conversation than his grunt.

“Didn’t you once accuse her of killing her mentor?” Cromwell asked Xenocrates, with a smirk.

Xenocrates squirmed a bit in his Grand Canyon chair. “An unfortunate error—understandable, considering the information we had, but I do take full responsibility.”

“Good for you,” Nzinga said. “It’s getting harder and harder to find scythes in MidMerica who take responsibility for their actions.”

It was a barbed taunt, but Xenocrates did not take the bait. “Which is precisely why this inquest and its outcome are so important.”

“Well, then,” said Supreme Blade Kahlo, raising her hand in a grand dramatic gesture, “let the wild rumpus start!”

? ? ?

In the east anteroom, Scythes Anastasia and Curie waited with two BladeGuards who stood at the door like olde-tyme beefeaters guarding a castle. Then, one of the council’s underscythes entered—Amazonian, by the telltale forest green color of his robe.

“The Grandslayers are ready for you,” he said, and held the door open for them. “However this unfolds,” Scythe Curie told Anastasia, “know that I am proud of you.”

“Don’t!” said Anastasia. “Don’t talk like we’ve already lost!”

They followed the underscythe to the council chamber, where the sun was already beating down from a cloudless sky into the open space.

To say that Anastasia was intimidated by the sight of the Grandslayers in their elevated stone chairs would be an understatement. Even though Endura was only two hundred years old, the chamber seemed ageless. Not just from another time, but another world. She thought back to the ancient myths she had learned as a child. To have an audience with the Grandslayers was akin to standing before the gods of Olympus.

“Welcome, Honorable Scythes Curie and Anastasia,” said Eighth World Supreme Blade Kahlo. “We look forward to hearing your case and putting an end to this matter one way or another.”

While most scythes took just the name of their Patron Historic, some chose to emulate them physically. Supreme Blade Kahlo was the spitting image of the artist Frida Kahlo, down to the flowers in her hair and hirsute eyebrows—and although the artist had been from the Mexiteca region of North Merica, the Supreme Blade had come to represent the voice and soul of South Merica.

“It’s an honor, Your Supreme Excellency,” Anastasia said, hoping she didn’t sound sycophantic, but knowing that she did.

Then Goddard entered with Scythe Rand by his side.

“Scythe Goddard!” said the Supreme Blade. “You’re looking well, considering what you’ve been through.”

“Thank you, Your Supreme Excellency.” He gave an exaggerated bow that made Anastasia roll her eyes.

“Careful, Anastasia,” warned Scythe Curie quietly, “they will be reading your body language just as much as listening to your words. Their decision today will be informed by what you don’t say as much as by what you do say.”

Goddard ignored Anastasia and Curie and directed all of his attention to Supreme Blade Kahlo. “It is an honor to be able to stand in your presence,” he said.

“I imagine so,” snarked Grandslayer Cromwell. “Without that new body, you’d only be able to roll.” Amundsen snickered at that, but no one else did—not even Anastasia, who wanted to, but held it in.

“Grandslayer Xenocrates says you have a surprise for us,” the Supreme Blade said.

Whatever it was, Goddard seemed to have arrived pretty empty-handed.

“Xenocrates must have faulty information,” Goddard said, his teeth almost gritted as he said it.

“It wouldn’t be the first time,” Cromwell commented.