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and new guard of Cypress Springs. Wisdom invigorated by youth. Youth tempered by the wisdom of experience. A difficult combination to beat.
âGood evening,â he said. âAs always, I appreciate the sacrifice each of you made to be here tonight.â
Because of the nature of the group, because some would not understand their motivesâeven those who stood to benefit most from their efforts, indeed, their sacrificeâthey met in secret and under cover of late night. Even their families didnât know the location or true nature of these meetings.
âI have bad news,â he told the group. âI have reason to believe Elaine St. Claire has contacted a Cypress Springs citizen.â
A murmur went around the table. One of his generals spoke. âHow certain are you of this?â
âQuite. I saw the letter myself.â
âThis is bad,â another said. âIf sheâs brazen enough tocontact someone in Cypress Springs, she very well might contact the authorities.â
âI plan to take care of it.â
âHow? Isnât she living in New Orleans?â
âShe can destroy us,â another interjected. âTo leave Cypress Springs is to lose the safety of our number.â
The Gavel shook his head, saddened. New Orleans had been the perfect place for her. Sin city. Anything went.
But, it seemed, she hadnât been able to help herself. No doubt, the passing months had dimmed her fear, had lessened the immediacy of the danger. It was human nature, he acknowledged. He hadnât been surprised.
He was beginning to doubt the effectiveness of the warning system they had devised. Warnings rarely worked. Or only proved a short-term deterrent.
âSheâs in St. Francisville now,â he said.
âBetter,â a general murmured. âWe have friends there.â
âWe wonât need them,â the Gavel said. âIâve planned a trap. A carefully executed trap.â
âLure her back to Cypress Springs,â General Blue said. âOnce here, sheâs ours.â
âExactly.â He gazed from one face to another around the table. âAre we in agreement, shall I set the trap?â
The generals didnât hesitate. They had learned nothing good came with lack of conviction. Weakness opened the door to destruction.
The Gavel nodded. âConsider it done. Next? Any concerns?â
Blue spoke again. âA newcomer to Cypress Springs. An outsider. Sheâs asking questions about The Seven. About our history.â
The Gavel frowned. Heâd heard, too. Outsiders always posed serious threats. They didnât understand what The Seven were fighting for. How seriously they took theirconvictions. Invariably, they had to be dealt with quickly and mercilessly.
Outsiders with knowledge of The Seven posed an even more significant danger.
Damn the original group, he thought. Theyâd been weak. They hadnât concealed their actions well. They hadnât been willing to take whatever measures were required, no matter the consequences to life or limb.
Too touchy-feely, the Gavel thought, lips twisting into a sneer. Theyâd bowed to internal fighting and the squeamishness of a few members. Bowed to a member who threatened to go to the American Civil Liberties Union and the Feds. And to any and all of those prissy-assed whiners who were sending this country to hell in a hand-basket.
It made him sick to think about it. What about the rights of decent, law-abiding folks to have a safe, morally clean place to live?
Thatâs where he and his generals differed from the original group. The Gavel had chosen his men carefully. Had chosen men as strong-willed as he. Men whose commitment to the cause mirrored his own in steadfastness and zeal.
He was willing to die for the cause.
He was willing to kill for it.
âThe outsider,â the Gavel asked, âanyone have a name yet?â
No one did. A general called
Robert Jordan, Brandon Sanderson