Horus walked, hunched under an umbrella in the rain towards the old church with the Grimoire tucked under in his arm. He unlocked the heavy doors of the church and lurched inside, locking the doors behind. The hall was dark and sullen. The only time the church was used was when someone held an Open House to introduce Obsidian's creative elite to the outside world. The Obsidian Season, it was called. Formerly held once every three years, it was becoming a decadent, garish event held, it seemed, all of the time. It was a now worthless practice, in his opinion, corrupted and ruined by the minor nobility, like Vatel. Other than that, the church, built upon a powerful energy field served no more use now than as a shield to hide from outworlders' eyes the comings and goings-on of Obsidianites. His footfalls reverberated throughout the halls as he made his way upstairs to the portal. The great wooden doors to this room were locked. Horus took his tiny key and unlocked these doors and again carefully locked them behind him. Behind the doors was a large, round room. A giant black wall that looked blacker than even the darkness of space, at the far end of the room sprang to life. A dark stone tunnel lined with torches stretched out before him. Hiding the Grimoire within the folds of his large black coat, he stepped into the tunnel and made his way down as the portal closed and disappeared behind him. He was now in the middle of the usual bedlam: horse drawn carriages and mingling throngs of people were everywhere. The eternal twilight sky of Obsidian, of dusky gray and of violet hue, glittered with bluish stars. Ancient buildings littered the landscape as far as the eye could see, rising from the city like wild weeds: arches, obelisks, steeples, columns and domes loomed overhead, a melee of perverted gothic and exotic architecture mingling together while the scene below them danced in firelight from the well lit streets. He rode a plain black carriage to Circle House, as it was known, the headquarters of the most powerful coven in Obsidian. Everyone pledged allegiance to either a Lesser or Greater House but the most powerful witches and sorcerers and other magickal elites among the citizenry belonged to Circle House. It was a magnificent monument. A round building with a massive domed roof, two black onyx snakes stood guard on either side of the front doors. Their faceted ruby eyes, large as pomegranates glowed dangerously as the carriage stopped in front. He walked between the baleful looking snakes, down the stairs, through the Great Hall, through another dark passageway, through an anteroom and finally into the monstrously huge kitchen in the deepest bowels of the House. The kitchen was a flurry with movement and drowned in cacophony of merry voices, clattering pots, pans and dishes and the air was awash thick in the pungent odors of raw foods, foods half cooked, foods fried, baked and grilled. Heaped upon the counters were mountains of peppers, garlic, onions, mushrooms, a plethora of fruits, vegetables, meats and spices: pork, beef, foul, exotic seafood from the deepest recesses of the black oceans of Obsidian, candied fruits, syrups and confections for pastries, the florid, sweet scent of tomatoes, papayas, limes and greens, all melded and tossed together. Preparations were being made for yet another feast for the High Council, when all of the Greater Houses gathered for celebration. Horus was overseer of the preparations. These numerous feasts irritated him greatly. They had merely become gossip fests. There were far too many celebrations and feasts in Obsidian these days that catered to the most frivolous and debased natures of Obsidianites. But he could not put a stop to it without enraging both the nobility and the people. He sniffed, glowering at the merry kitchen staff around him. He moved slowly along towards the huge, gaping maw of the fireplace, a brilliant fire roaring within. He inspected and tasted each cooking pot, each loaf of bread, pastry, salad, vinaigrette and tender morsel of meat. As rich as the scents and delectable as the morsels were, his large, brutish face remained etched in a deep frown, his eyes intense and observant. The exuberant spirits of the kitchen staff dampened somewhat in deference to his inspection. Satisfied that all seemed well on his watch he left the kitchen, took the creaky old elevator to the top floor and went to his study. The study was a cavernous room with one large window that ran the perimeter of half of its circumference. Often it was hidden behind a heavy, dusty velvet curtain. He looked out over the twinkling colors of lights below. The ever dusky sky morphed through different shades of violet and periwinkle. There was a cough from a dark corner of the room. Horus smiled inwardly.
"Madame Eblanna. Good of you to come so early. What have you got for me?" He said without turning around. He took the Grimoire out from beneath his coat and set it down on a nearby table, making sure its cover faced down.
"The information you requested, Lord Horus. I went by his manor a few days back, to see how things were."
"And how are things?"
"I have found no evidence of his treachery yet, though my spy swears that he has formed a rogue coven. I will keep trying."
"Worm in a better spy Eblanna. The sooner we find evidence the better. He's too well connected for us to simply have him arrested. I have never seen someone so willing to bypass tradition and hierarchy. He's been getting away with rebellion for too long."
"We'll get him under control...."
"I want him wiped out! He can't be controlled Eblanna, he's too sneaky and he can't be bullied easily either. He's too well liked by too many powerful people." Eblanna looked thoughtful. She glided over to the window where he stood, a long, black satin train rustled softly behind her. In the darkened room, even then, she was handsome to behold, her beauty shining like a dangerous light in the dark, with large, fierce kohl eyes hidden under a huge silk and brocaded Edwardian hat. His gaze flickered over her waspy figure binded in a black satin corset.
"Perhaps you could try to seduce him. You could..." He started.
"Please. You think I haven't tried?"
"Well, a weakness will uncover itself at some point. Vigilance is the key. What news of the High Council meeting?" Horus asked and strode over to a table littered with candles and lit a match. The sudden, bright flickering flame cast tremulous shadows on the curved walls. Eblanna sat down in a worn leather armchair, crossing her long legs slowly. She sighed.
“Good and bad. The issue of rogue covens was addressed again at the Council yesterday. Most of the rogues operating in the Lesser Houses have been found and arrested. Now they are turning their attention to the Greater Houses, which brings me to the good news. The High Council has decided, at long last, to take your advice. They are bringing back the Legion. It will be the job of the Legion to inform the High Council of any suspicious activity pertaining to the defection of magickal people to rogue covens, and if need be, to make immediate arrests. Our own secret police. Ressurected. You see Lord Horus, you are more influential than you assume.” Eblanna began picking her nails. Horus remained silent for a time and continued to light candles all around the perimeter of the study until it was awash in light.
"It's about time the Legion was resurrected. If we don't find him out, the Legion will. Glass of rum?" Horus asked.
"Please." He strode over to the bar and poured two small glasses of dark rum.
"Other news?" He sat down in a faded green armchair next to hers. Eblanna sighed heavily.
"The bad news; the issue of the next High Priest has finally caught the attention of the High Council. They have decided to call the Midnight Congregate for Circle House if the issue is not settled over the next thirteen days." Eblanna watched Horus's face carefully. He remained expressionless but his voice grew taught and lower. Midnight Congregate! he thought grimly. It was an emergency meeting that hadn’t been used in many decades!
"How, do you think, will they decide on the matter?"
"They won't. They want you to decide on the matter. This is one of those few meetings where you will actually be required to attend, Lord Horus. Since the issue has not been settled through mundane means, et al. negotiations, selection process, thanks to our imbecilic High Priestess, the situation now necessitates a magickal solution. You will have to summon the Goddess in front of the Circle House coven and the High Council. Everyone feels that only in this way can the question of succession be settled." Horus could not believe his ears. Little beads of sweat formed on his brow.
"They would drag me away from my duties and force me to summon up vast amounts of energy just to settle a dispute of succession? For the position of High Priest? What next? Must I officiate at novice initiations as well?" He sniffed in disgust.
"Horus, the matter of the next High Priest is no small matter. If it looks as if the High Priestess is unwilling or unable to handle the matter, Circle House will lose its prestige in the eyes of the nobles of the other Houses. The power that this House has held for generations will be lost if something isn't done. Priestesses and Priests of the other Houses are already beginning to chafe against our supremacy." Lady Eblanna said.
"The thought sickens me." He said. He was livid. Incompetence all around me! Will I ever be free of it to do my duty? But there was fear as well in his mind. He cast a longing look at the book on the table across the room.
"I just don't understand what is wrong with our High Priestess! Why has she not done her duty?" Eblanna complained.
"Some mysterious illness, I suppose. One that has conveniently weakened her mental state. I have not been able to cure it. No potion, remedy or skill of mine has yet worked. Unsurprisingly, some new faces seem to be constantly at her side of late." Horus's face darkened.
"Whose?"
"Lady Morgan, Lady Dalinde, and a few others."
"You think they are associates of Vatel?"
"I am sure of it. As of only a few weeks ago, I had her ear, but suddenly she has become more and more hostile towards me, unwilling to take my advice on even the simplest of matters. Like I said before, we need solid evidence against him."
"Morgan and Dalinde. Hmmmm. I hope we can get to the bottom of this soon."
"As do I." They both sat in silence, sipping rum and listening to the faint hustle and bustle outside.
posted by V. A. Jeffrey @ 10:57 PM
