“Good
evening, everyone,” Mr. Blackwell said, “I hope that your days have been
pleasant, as mine surely weren’t.”
Bren had expected the Meeting of the
Circle to be held in one of the two rooms she’d passed the first time she’d
been to the Memorial Center.
Instead, the circle met within the greater
chamber, the one she’d been inducted within, with Mr. Blackwell occupying the
podium and the rest of the members occupying the pews. There were just under a
dozen members; Bren sat between two old men.
Bren supposed she was the youngest in the
room by at least twenty years.
“Because of complications, we were
unable to meet yesterday,” Mr. Blackwell said. He eyed Bren like a trespasser.
Clearly, her induction was the reason the Meeting had been delayed. “We were to
discuss a major development in the conflict between the Strifepalms and the
Bricklayers. The abduction of the Diplomat. I am sure you have all heard of
this by now.”
But at the mention of the abduction of the Diplomat, there were
gasps. Bren decided not to fake one. She knew about the Diplomat. She
understood enough to know that it was not a good thing that he was gone now,
but she also knew that things like this were sometimes common.
“Some of you have not heard, apparently,” Blackwell said, “The capture occurred
Friday night, directly after the Strifepalms’ evening sessions had ended. The
Diplomat was seen being taken at gunpoint into a brick red Sedan, which then drove straight to the Brick Center.”
Bren readjusted in her seat. She
wondered why she hadn’t heard it happen, but then supposed that she might have
been wandering the spirit planes at that point, or wherever it was she went
when she died.
“Without the Diplomat keeping
tensions between the Strifepalms and the Bricklayers low,” Blackwell said, “an
all-out conflict is highly likely. The Diplomat will be succeeded by the second
in command, the Greentop, who has made it clear on multiple occasions what she
wishes to do to the Bricklayers.”
“So?” One of the women to Bren’s
right said, “Do you predict a conflict between the two? You are not a prophet;
you are simply stating the obvious.”
“The Greys have already shown a
willingness to cooperate with the Bricklayers,” Blackwell said, hurriedly, “I
suggest we give the Bricklayers our aid as well, to wipe out the Strifepalms.”
“We could support the Bricklayers,” the woman said, “But it would be
blasphemy. To support another of the societies would be against the teachings.”
“I understand,” Blackwell said, “But
with all due respect…”
“With all due respect,” said the
woman who’d been beside Blackwell during the ceremony, “I will have to agree
with Jacqueline. We can’t go against everything that has brought us to where we
are.”
Bren reached into her backpack. (She’d
left her backpack in her car after class and had meant to take it back to her
dorm room before coming, but Seymour had called to tell her that she was going
to be late.) Her composition notebook was inside. She flipped past the notes
about twelfth century China and found a blank page. She earmarked it and
started writing down that it was blasphemy for any of the four societies to
willingly ally with another.
“But where are we?” Blackwell asked, “You must
see that we are a stagnant group. We have lost all of our members but those
within this town. And though we still have great power, it may become fleeting
if we do not act to keep it for ourselves.”
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