Flux Wanderrift's Arc

Chapter 8 of 18

Flux moved through the chamber slow, wearing a face that was not their own. Radiant symbols burned on the domed walls. Robed figures sat in a ring beneath cold lights. No one turned. The disguise held. But one adventurer could not tear this council apart alone. Flux needed someone inside to turn the room. So they listened, and watched for a crack in the ring of power. An old man in purple robes broke away from the others. White beard, gold pendant, and a scowl fixed deep. He carried a stack of papers and set them down hard on a stone ledge. "Buried again," he muttered. "Questions instead of answers." He glanced up and caught Flux staring. "You're new. Good. New eyes don't owe anyone yet." This was Aldric Vornheim, and he spoke like a man who trusted no one in the room. A younger man trailed him close, clutching a leather book. He watched Aldric the way a dog watches a door. "The vote's tomorrow," the young man said. "Someone bought it. I found the trail." Aldric did not look at him. "Then we prove it, Perrin. Or we lose the trade routes and the grain both." Flux felt the crack open. A council divided against itself. They stepped closer and kept Celestine's calm voice. "You have proof and no allies. I have neither loyalty nor a name here. Use me." Aldric studied the stranger's face. Behind Flux, the fleas held firm across their cheeks. "Bold," he said. "Or stupid. Both are useful." He tapped the papers. "A councilor sells our votes. I can't move alone. Perrin runs my errands. But no one on the ring will stand with me." He paused. "Why would you?" "Because I want this council gone," Flux said. The truth slipped out plain. Aldric did not flinch. He gave a dry laugh. "So do I, some days. But I'd settle for it honest." Then the young man leaned in. His eyes moved over Flux's borrowed cheek. "Your face," Perrin said, flat. "It moves. Small. Like it's breathing." The fleas rippled once under his stare. Flux went still. Perrin looked at Aldric, then back. He did not shout. He did not call a guard. "You're not who you say. Doesn't matter. He needs hands." Aldric held out his own hand. Wrinkled, ringed, sure. "An enemy of this council is an ally of mine. For now." Flux gripped it. The pact closed with a handshake, not an alarm. Flux had walked in alone. Now they stood beside a councilor who wanted the ring broken from within. But the young man knew the mask was false. The disguise had cracked in one pair of eyes. Flux had gained the ally they needed and lost the safety of the borrowed face in the same breath.