Free Evan Burl and the Falling, Vol. 1-2 by Justin Blaney Page B

eyes to ascertain their ignorance. Cevo, you must be more careful. Remember your vow. I swept ash under the table with my foot.
    The Regents sat at a large oval table, staring at me. I glanced around, having not been in this room for nearly thirty years. Time had not been kind. A grand, round hall surrounded us with two wide staircases winding up the walls on either side and long gaudy curtains covering the windows. And above, a ridiculous chandelier that was likely as horribly out of style on the day it was installed as it is today. I stood in the Requestor's Booth, a chintzy, three-sided, waist-high enclosure at the foot of the table, where people from the city came to petition government officials. Do not lean on it Cevo; the whole booth might collapse.
    " Vice Regent Mahalelel, is it now?" I smiled at him. Grandiose delusions for such a simple man.  
    Mahalelel glanced sideways at the elevated throne at the head of the table. "You didn't say the Chancellor would be absent from this special session of the Regency, Cevostramos."  
    I shrugged and wiped my feet on the rug.  
    He nasalized on, his mustache twitching like it always did when he was nervous, "Some people might get the wrong idea if they discover the Regency is meeting without the Chancellor."
    I rubbed my white-gloved finger along the dusty edge of the Requestor's Booth. "Tell me Mahalelel, does this city have a cleaning staff?" From the dingy curtains to the tarnished brass hardware to the rampant mold below the windowsills, this place would better serve as a brothel than a judgment hall. A greenskin manservant brought a purple velvet stool for me.
    I suppressed a shudder at the sight of it. "I am not so old I cannot stand." Imagine the bath I would have to take after sitting on that thing. I turned my attention to the fourteen olive-skinned men—like my adopted family. Humans born on this side of the mountains are not ebony skinned like me.  
    Cevo, you are an onyx sapphire walking atop a salt sea. This is why Mahalelel hates you, and he always will. The Regents stared with imbecilic eyes as I searched for just the right verbiage to pry my city back from their filth-crusted hands.
    "Megestanis, let me get straight to the point," I said. "This city, obviously, needs money, and I am willing to provide it." I leaned over and picked up the table's dusty runner to illustrate my point.
    "If you're finally willing to pay your share of the taxes," Mahalelel said, "you didn't need to waste our time by calling us here to say so."
    Thirty years ago, I received a letter of absolvement from the previous Chancellor which indefinitely excluded me from my obligation to pay taxes on a city block that I had retained ownership of. I had, after all, been responsible for the entire city's existence in the first place—it seemed only fair to avoid paying taxes. But my role in founding El Qir had become mere legend to those at the table; humans have such short, pathetic memories. Especially when someone like Mahalelel is around, working day and night to make this city forget me. The terms of the Chancellor's tax absolvement letter had been disputed, but according to the agreement, the only one with the power to revoke it was the authoring Chancellor. And he happened, quite tragically, to die a few days after signing it.  
    Vice Regent Mahalelel stood up. "If you want to purchase one of the city's assets, you will find the bursar's office more than adequate."  
    "I'm afraid that will not do."
    Mahalelel gestured to the Regents. "Good day gentleman. I have more pressing business to attend to."  
    I held up my hand to stop him. "I wish to purchase something a little out of the ordinary."
    "Out with it then."  
    "The Chancellorship."
    There was a moment of silence followed by an eruption of laughter. When Mahalelel seemed to realize I was serious, he coughed. "We already have a Chancellor. Quite popular with the people and only forty years old. We expect him to be Chancellor