messenger. They, too, threaten the city and her people.”
“By thunder, he’s right,” Arbuckle yelled, pounding the lectern with his gavel. “Guards, arrest him.”
Two soldiers rushed forward and took hold of Argus Deephammer’s arms. For his part, Argus made no attempt to resist them.
Shouts of approval and a few scattered cheers erupted in the chamber. Bradok didn’t hear any of it. He felt sick. The actions of the council were wrong. They had been wrong all day. He knew Argus, knew the man was good and honest. Perhaps he had fallen asleep and merely dreamed the voice of Reorx in the deep tunnels, where he found the moonwell. But Argus himself posed no real danger to the town.
He wanted to object, to stand and speak on Argus’s behalf, but one look at the sputtering, angry faces around the hall told him what kind of response that would receive. And glancing up, he remembered his mother’s warning: don’t speak against the consensus and never unless called upon. He could well see that all his fellow councilmen were in agreement with Arbuckle.
“And what of his confederates?” Bladehook asked, climbing back up to his seat. “Who are they? Let us ferret them out.”
“Good idea, Jon,” Mayor Arbuckle said before turning to the guardsmen who had arrested Argus.
“Take him to prison,” the mayor declared, “then go to his house and arrest his family, his close friends too. We’ll cut out this zealotry before it has a chance to cause chaos and rebellion in our city.”
Suddenly, without thinking, Bradok found himself rising to his feet. He stood so quickly and so forcefully, he knocked his chair over backward. The chair rolled down the steps of the platform and into the outer walkway, clattering loudly as it went. All eyes in the hall turned to stare in surprise at the new councilman. Truth be told, he was as shocked as they to find himself on his feet, and didn’t have the slightest idea of what he was about to say.
A deafening silence followed, broken only by the nervous cough from someone on the far side of the hall. Bradok opened his mouth to speak, but at first nothing came out. He knew he mustn’t say the words his conscience screamed out in the dark recesses of his mind. He ought to be diplomatic. Yet he could think of nothing diplomatic or anything else to say. His mind was a blank.
“Ahem. Yes. All right, the chair recognizes Councilman Axeblade,” Arbuckle said, his genial, affable voice back.
“Brothers, councilmen,” Bradok began haltingly, his mind frantically scrambling. “Before we allow ourselves to, uh, get carried away, perhaps we should slow down and think. Arresting Argus might seem prudent as a temporary measure, but what will people think if we arrest his family?”
He paused to let that question sink in before stumbling on. “They’ll wonder if their council are a bunch of weaklings, fearing women and children.”
Several people in the gallery laughed nervously and the councilmen exchanged looks.
“And what will those people do if they see us as weak?” Bradok said, remembering his mother’s own words from that morning. “You and I both know that if they see us as weak, they might decide they don’t need us making their decisions for them.”
The silence that followed his words stretched out for a long time.
“Thank you, Bradok,” Mayor Arbuckle finally replied in a small voice. “Your words speak prudence and a wisdom beyond your years.” He cast his eyes around the chamber at the other councilmen. “Surely there must be some other way to find this dwarf’s confederates, ways that won’t rile the populace.”
“You can silence me,” Argus interjected, his voice still loud and confident, “but others will come in my stead until it is too late.”
“Enough of this,” Mayor Arbuckle said, waving at the guards. “Take him away.”
Argus Deephammer went without a struggle. Bradok watched him go, keeping his emotions under tight control. He couldn’t save Argus, but at least Bradok had spared his family from rotting in prison with him.
Two pages had picked up Bradok’s chair and returned it to the platform. As Bradok returned to his seat, he cast a sideways glance at Jon Bladehook. To his surprise, the secularist leader was glaring back at him with undisguised animosity. Blade-hook had clearly intended Argus’s arrest to be the first, but not the last among the believers. That plan had been thwarted by some upstart newcomer.
Bradok felt certain he’d made a powerful and dangerous enemy.
CHAPTER 3
No more petitioners today,” Mayor Arbuckle said once Argus had been escorted out. “Clear the gallery and seal the chamber.”
As the audience above filed out, the mayor flopped back in his high chair, throwing the gavel down on the lectern in disgust.
“We have to do something,” someone said from the far side of the chamber.
“Clearly,” Jon Bladehook said, standing again. “Is it just me, or do these street preachers and religious zealots seem more common and aggressive than they used to be?”
An angry murmur ran around the chamber.
“Why, one can hardly walk from city hall to the Artisans’ Cavern without some lunatic shouting at you that you must repent, that the end is nigh, or some such nonsense.”
All around the chamber, councilmen were frowning and nodding and muttering. Bradok remembered the man with the painted sign and glanced involuntarily up at the gallery that had been so recently emptied.
“It’s a public nuisance,” Bladehook went on. “Not to mention the fact that any of these zealots might be in on whatever plot Argus Deephammer is hatching to stir up the people.”
“Arrest them all,” someone yelled. Others joined in until pandemonium filled the chamber.
Only Bradok noticed the oily, self-satisfied smile flirting around the corners of Jon Bladehook’s mouth. That was the solution he hadn’t wanted to propose himself.
Bradok felt the cold knot return to his stomach.
“Enough of this,” Mayor Arbuckle shouted, pounding on the lectern.
The room fell silent, and Bladehook’s face returned to an emotionless mask.
“As our new brother, Bradok, has shrewdly pointed out, any move by this council that is considered extreme will weaken our position.”
“Well, what do we do then?” old Tal Boreshank asked irritably. “If we don’t act, sooner or later it’ll look like we endorse all this religious rhetoric. I, for one, have had my fill.”
Angry arguments broke out all over the hall. Some of the council favored sweeping measures, while others urged caution. Bradok just sat there, thinking. He was no believer, that much was certain. Still, something about how the council had treated Argus Deephammer and his solemn warning seemed, well-undwarflike.
He looked down the row to where Jon Bladehook stood, leaning against the front of his desk. He seemed to be basking in the glow of the controversy. As a secularist, he clearly disapproved of the believers, but Bradok thought the intensity of Bladehook’s emotion suggested something more beneath the surface. It seemed as though the notion that others believed in something he considered foolish was a personal affront to him.
In that moment, Bradok felt certain that Bladehook would not stop until he’d put all the Ironroot believers in jail-or worse.
“Ban them,” Bradok said abruptly, his voice cutting through the arguing. He stood as all the eyes in the room returned to him. “We can pass an ordinance banning proselytizing outside the temple grounds and private homes,” he explained. “That way we get them off the street but they can still speak their piece.”
A long pause followed during which no one spoke. Bradok started to worry that he’d gone too far. Then Much cleared his throat.
“I like that plan,” Much said, standing formally. “It solves the immediate problem, and the citizenry will see it as a reasonable measure to prevent interference with daily lives.”
Around the chamber, bearded heads were nodding in agreement.
