Soul of the Fire

Dalton met the gaze of both the Minister and his wife to check he had their attention before he went on.

"This is very fortunate, with what has just happened."

The Minister studied Dalton's face before letting his gaze wander back to explore the young lady. "And what just happened?"

Dalton took Teresa's hand under the table.

"Minister Chanboor, Lady Chanboor, I regret to inform you the Sovereign has died."

Recoiling with the shock of the news, Teresa gasped, before putting her napkin to her face so people wouldn't see her sudden tears of grief. Teresa was loath to let people see her cry.

Bertrand's intent gaze locked on Dalton's. "I thought he was getting better."

It was a statement of suspicion-not that he would be at all against the Sovereign's death. Suspicion because he was unsure Dalton would have the wherewithal to accomplish such a thing, and more than that, as to why Dalton would take such a bold step, if indeed he had.

Although the Minister without doubt privately would be delighted that the old Sovereign had vacated his position in such a timely fashion, any hint of his demise being by other than natural causes could compromise everything they had worked for just as they stood at the threshold of victory.

Dalton leaned toward the Minister, not shying from the innuendo. "We have trouble. Too many people are willing to mark a circle to have us all joined with Lord Rahl. We need to make this a personal choice, between our loving benevolent Sovereign and a man who may have evil in his heart for our people.

"As we have previously discussed, we need to be able to deliver to… our backer, on commitments already made. We can no longer afford the risk this vote presents. We must now take a more forceful stand against joining with Lord Rahl, despite the risk that course holds."

Dalton lowered his voice even more. "We need you to take such a stand with the weight of the words of the Sovereign. You must be the Sovereign, and put voice to those words."

A satisfied smile spread on Bertrand's face. "Dalton, my loyal and resourceful aide, you have just earned yourself a very important appointment to the soon-to-be vacant office of Minister of Culture."

Everything, at long last, was clicking into place.

Hildemara's expression was stunned-but pleased- disbelief. She knew the layers of protection around the Sovereign; she knew because she had tried but failed to penetrate them.

By the look on her face, she was no doubt envisioning herself as wife to the Sovereign, worshiped as near to a good spirit in the world of life as a person could get, her words profoundly more weighty than those of the mere wife to the Minister, a station that only moments before had been lofty, but now seemed paltry and unworthy of her.

Hildemara leaned past her husband to gently seize Dalton's wrist. "Dalton, my boy, you are better than I thought you were-and I thought very much of you. I never would have guessed it possible…” She left the deed unspoken.

"I do my duty, Lady Chanboor, no matter the difficulty. I know results are all that matter."

She gave his wrist another squeeze before releasing him. He had never seen her so genuinely appreciative of anything he accomplished. Claudine Winthrop's end had not even brought him a nod of approval.

Dalton turned to his wife. He had been careful; she hadn't 'heard his whispered words. In her grief, she wasn't even paying attention. He put a consoling arm around her shoulders.

'Tess, are you all right?"

"Oh, Dalton, the poor man," she sobbed. "Our poor Sovereign. May the Creator keep his soul safe in the exalted place he has earned in the afterlife."

Bertrand leaned around behind Dalton to compassionately touch Teresa's arm. "Well put, my dear. Well put. You have expressed perfectly the loving sentiments of everyone."

Bertrand affected his most somber expression as he rose from his chair. Rather than lifting a hand as he usually did, he stood in silence, head bowed, hands clasped before him. Hildemara lifted her finger and the harp fell silent. Laughter and talking trailed off as people realized something out of the ordinary was taking place.

"My good people of Anderith, I have just received the most sorrowful news. As of tonight, we are a people lost and without a Sovereign."

The room, rather than breaking into whispering, as Dalton expected, fell into a stunned, dead silence. Dalton then realized, for the first time, really, that he had been born and lived his entire life under the reign of the old Sovereign. An era had ended. Many in the room had to be thinking the same thing.

Bertrand, every eye on him, blinked as if to hold back tears. His voice, as he went on, was mournful and quiet.

"Let us all now bow our heads and pray the Creator takes the soul of our beloved Sovereign to the place of honor he has earned with his good works- And then I must leave you to your dinner as I forgo mine to immediately call the Directors to their duty.