Free Island Shifters: Book 03 - An Oath of the Children by Valerie Zambito Page A

outstretched hand, stepped out of the palanquin, and hurried up the stairs and through the doors of the Consulate before the people were of the mind to start hurtling objects his way. It had happened once, and he did not wish a repeat of that humiliating incident.
    The fighters at the doors stood motionless as he passed them, their blank expressions giving away nothing.
    Hendrix blinked in the dim interior of the Consulate and smiled inwardly when he saw the Seconds already waiting and seated on cushions under the domed ceiling of the circular room. His Adjunct rushed forward and guided him to his seat, and he lowered himself onto his pillow. Crossing his legs, he accepted the Chero pipe handed to him and inhaled deeply of the cannabis smoke before passing the pipe to Emile who sat down on the pillow to his right. It did not escape Hendrix’s notice that Emile passed the pipe to Balder without imbibing.
    Hendrix smiled at his Seconds. “Good afternoon. Thank you for gathering with such short notice, but I think you will agree that what I have to say could not wait until our regular session meeting.”
    Balder passed the pipe to Anah and sat up straighter on his pillow. His eyes were already glassy from the cannabis. “You have us waiting with bated breath, Your Eminence.”
    Anah chuckled.
    Fools. I am surrounded by downright bloody fools.
    “Before we start, Your Eminence,” Jarl began, “I must bring up a matter of importance to my caste.”
    “Of course, Jarl, the floor is yours.”
    “It is about the missing boy. His distraught parents, and many others I might add, are still demanding answers.”
    Hendrix leaned back on his pillow. “What can I do to help, Jarl?”
    The Ironfinger lifted his chin and narrowed his gaze. “You can start by telling me where he is.”
    “Jarl, why would—”
    “The boy was last seen entering your compound, Your Eminence. I need to know what to tell his parents.”
    Before Hendrix could reply, his Adjunct scurried over. “I can explain, Second Jarl. The boy did come to the compound to deliver a message, but he met an unfortunate end when he fell down three flights of stairs. It is with the utmost regret that I must inform you that the poor boy broke his neck.” The Adjunct gave a very convincing rueful shake of his head. “Such a shame. I should have come forward immediately but other matters have kept me quite occupied.”
    Jarl eyed the Adjunct suspiciously. “Is that so?”
    Hendrix held up a hand. “Thank you, Adjunct, for your honesty in coming forward. Nevertheless, you will be punished for waiting so long to report this incident and causing anxiety to the Ironfingers.”
    The Adjunct pushed his spectacles up on his nose and bowed. “Of course, Your Eminence. I deserve no less.”
    “I think ten lashes is a suitable—”
    “Thirty,” Jarl interrupted.
    The Adjunct swallowed.
    “Thirty lashes is quite severe, Jarl,” Hendrix tried to argue.
    “A boy is dead, Your Eminence. At your compound.”
    Maybe this one is not as big of a fool as the others.
    Hendrix looked his Second in the eye and then nodded in agreement. “Aye, thirty it is.”
    The Adjunct gave a last shaky bow and left to resume his place in the shadows of the room.
    “Do we have any other matters to discuss?” Hendrix asked impatiently.
    When the Seconds shook their heads, he decided to get right to the point. “I have the most remarkable news to share. An abundant source of wormwood has been located. Hundreds of plants are being shipped to Ellvin as we speak.”
    Balder choked on the pipe smoke. “What? The rumors are true? I have been hearing stories for weeks now, but I brushed them aside as wishful thinking!”
    “Aye, Balder, they are true.”
    Anah, the only female in the room, reached for the pipe and took another pull. “Your Eminence,” she breathed through the exhaled smoke curling around her face. “This is such wonderful news.”
    Hendrix shook his head at the feigned interest. He