Free Final Solstice by David Sakmyster Page B

Carved from a massive sequoia stump, it made up for the distance from the arch-druid and the perceived slight Solomon refused to accept. He sat lithely, crossed his legs and set his staff across the armrests, then leaned forward to view the iPad screen set up in front of him, as the others had in front of them. Another anachronism, and as far as Solomon was concerned, a ludicrous attempt by the old-timer to appear in touch with the modern world. He glanced to his left, into the other room, a study which held the grand piano and an assortment of bookshelves, Solomon was again glad he’d missed any recitals by the old fool.
    “Let’s see,” he said after a pause, scrolling down the iPad screen. “What did I miss so far? Ah, the agenda. The usual items. Montgomery gave his redundant spiel on his efforts at the EPA, having infiltrated the agency and placed acolytes in the highest positions. So what have you done? Oh, you’ve got another appeal headed to the Supreme Court mandating further emissions restrictions! Wonderful.” He rolled his eyes and stared at the thin bald man in the drab grey suit sitting beside Palavar. “Great progress we’re making there.”
    “Solomon—”
    “Hang on.” He scrolled down. “Oh shit, did I miss Angelica’s update on the expansion of social media and her bold attempts to reshape college-age minds regarding the wonders of protecting the planet? Like that’s a difficult task, come on.”
    “Solomon—”
    “And oh, damn it, this I did want to hear.” Solomon glanced up, tightening his grip, two-handed, on the staff. “Louis Palavar gave his annual presentation detailing Hollywood’s master plan to saturate popular culture with earth-saving messages and ideas, subliminal and otherwise.” He chuckled. “How’s that going for you?”
    Palavar glared at him, and the two held each other’s stares as both sides of the table hushed and glanced from one to the other. Solomon had played his opening hand, and now it was the old man’s turn. But really, there was no doubt about what the next moves were going to be. Solomon had played them out in his head countless times in the past few days. Timed these chess moves down to the second, in fact. He knew Palavar only too well, and counted on him being exactly the rigid old fool that was.
    “Actually,” Palavar said, breaking the silence as Solomon knew he would. “We haven’t followed the agenda at all.”
    Solomon smiled, never taking his eyes off him. “Really? That’s not like you, deviating from procedure. Must have been something quite serious to force that decision.”
    “It was.” Palavar’s eyes hardened, a look like a hawk’s surveying everything. I’m sure he doesn’t miss anything. Or at least, he thinks he doesn’t . Solomon counted on Palavar’s overconfidence. He’d only get one shot at this, and if he failed, everything he had worked for would be in ruins. And the world would slip away forever from its true destiny.
    “Well,” Solomon spoke calmly. “Hope it wasn’t something I did.”
    “You tell us,” Palavar replied at once. “In fact, let’s jump right ahead to agenda Item Seven. Your report on what was supposed to be your effort to enhance awareness of Global Warming in the business community, and specifically, aiming to pass a resolution through the United Nations that would—”
    Solomon groaned. “Yes, yes, in time. I’d be happy to talk about all that. But as you said, that’s not what you really want to ask me, is it?” He glanced at a few of the others. At Angelica Briars with her lustrous scarlet hair pulled back and sparkling with what looked like pixie dust, but nothing could eradicate the crow’s nests around her eyes or the sallow hue to her cheeks. He glanced at the diminutive and gnome-like Morris Tildershines, who held rank over the ancient clan of druids in Britain and Scotland, at Heidi Noriesse who fancied herself one among the Valkyries and lorded over the dwindling clan