Free Wintercraft: Legacy by Jenna Burtenshaw Page A

chamber buildings as warning bells were rung one by one, melding together into an urgent cacophony of noise.
    ‘It’s about time,’ said Silas.
    He and Edgar walked swiftly through the corridors and up opulent staircases as if they had never been away. The chambers filled with servants, and wardens burst out of side corridors, hurrying to their posts. One or two looked directly at Silas, registering him just for a moment, before they lowered their eyes and ran on. They valued their lives too much to challenge him.
    Silas and Edgar reached a long corridor leading down to the meeting hall. The wardens on either side of the doors drew their weapons when they spotted someone approaching and immediately lowered them again when they identified Silas, their faces filled with dread.
    ‘Move aside,’ he said smoothly, before pushing the doors open with both hands and entering a room filled with raised voices.
    ‘
I don’t care what you think
,’ came a shout from inside. ‘
You are wrong and that is the end of it!
’
    The meeting hall was a vast panelled room, painted black, with huge tapestries hung upon all the walls except one. The final wall was filled with a square window of clear glass that let moonlight stream in across a long wooden table etched with curls of silver. The table was surrounded by the thirteen members of Albion’s High Council and their closest advisers. Some were seated,others standing, watched over by eight wardens who stood silently against the walls.
    An argument was raging and there was no sense of order. Silas doubted they had even heard the warning bells over the sound of their own voices, but when he entered the room every voice fell quiet, except for one.
    ‘It is a waste of our time, a waste of our men, and the most laughable excuse for disobedience that I have ever heard,’ it was shouting. ‘I don’t want to see another single person leaving this city. I don’t care what they have heard or what they
think
they have seen. All this talk of “restless souls”. It is the talk of children and has no place within this room!’
    The councilman realised that people had stopped arguing back, and spotted Silas standing just a few steps away from him. ‘Oh,’ he said, much more quietly. ‘You. Those bells are for you, I presume? Traitors are not welcome in this hall, Officer Dane. I trust you are here to turn yourself in to the judgement of Albion law?’
    Silas watched the man with interest. He was the most recent member among the thirteen – Da’ru Marr’s replacement – and still naive enough to think he had a voice and an opinion separate from that of the council as a whole.
    ‘Since you already know me,’ said Silas, ‘I will not waste time on introductions.’
    The councilman turned to his fellow members. ‘Why is he here?’ he demanded. ‘Who let him get this far into the chambers? A murderer is standing a few feet away from me and no one is moving!’
    Most of the advisers whispered excuses and exited theroom, leaving the council and their wardens alone with their two visitors.
    ‘I have served this country far longer than you have worn that robe,’ said Silas. ‘You will listen to me, or this city will soon be unrecognisable. You have become blind to what is happening here. You have been so busy doubting the truth about the ground beneath your feet that you have allowed a poisonous enemy into your lands.’
    ‘And that enemy would be . . . you?’ The councilman laughed quietly, looking around for others to share in his joke. Edgar watched nervously. He had never seen anyone attempt to mock Silas before.
    ‘Dalliah Grey is here.’ A whisper of surprise spread around the table as Silas addressed the council as a whole. ‘She is here, and she intends to damage our city and our country. Those of you who were present on the Night of Souls know that the veil is not merely a superstition. Dalliah intends to bring it down upon all of us, allowing restless souls to wander