Clockwork Prince (The Infernal Devices 2)

Jem laughed. "What else are parabatai for?"

The Council chamber was draped with red banners slashed with black runes; Jem whispered to Tessa that they were runes of decision and judgment.

They took their seats toward the front, in a row that also contained Henry, Gideon, Charlotte, and Will. Tessa had not spoken to Will since the day before; he had not been at breakfast, and had joined them in the courtyard late, still buttoning his coat as he ran down the stairs. His dark hair was disheveled, and he looked as if he had not slept. He seemed to be trying to avoid looking at Tessa, and she, in turn, avoided returning his gaze, though she could feel it flicking over her from time to time, like hot flecks of ash landing on her skin.

Jem was a perfect gentleman; their engagement was still secret, and other than smiling at her every time she looked at him, he behaved in no way out of the ordinary. As they settled themselves in their seats at the Council, she felt him brush her arm with the knuckles of his right hand, gently, before moving his hand away.

She could feel Will watching them, from the end of the row they sat in. She did not look toward him.

In seats on the raised platform at the chambers center sat Benedict Lightwood, his eagle profile turned away from

the mass of the Council, his jaw set. Beside him sat Gabriel, who, like Will, looked exhausted and unshaven. He glanced once at his brother as Gideon entered the room, and then away as Gideon took his seat, deliberately, among the Shadowhunters of the Institute. Gabriel bit his lip and looked down at his shoes, but did not move from where he sat.

She recognized a few more faces in the audience. Charlottes aunt call ida was there, as was gaunt Aloysius Starkweather-despite, as he had complained, doubtless not being invited. His eyes narrowed as they fell on Tessa, and she turned back quickly to the front of the room.

"We are here," said Consul Wayland when he had taken his place before the lectern with the Inquisitor seated to his left, "to determine to what extent Charlotte and Henry Branwel have been of assistance to the Clave during the past fortnight in the matter of Axel Mortmain, and whether, as Benedict Lightwood has put in a claim, the London Institute would be better off in other hands. "

The Inquisitor rose. He was holding something that gleamed silver and black in his hands. "Charlotte Branwell, please come up to the lectern. "

Charlotte got to her feet, and climbed up the stairs to the stage. The Inquisitor lowered the Mortal Sword, and Charlotte wrapped her hands around the blade. In a quiet voice she recounted the events of the past two weeks-searching for Mortmain in newspaper clippings and historical accounts, the visit to Yorkshire, the threat against the Herondales, discovering Jessies betrayal, the fight at the warehouse, Nates death. She never lied, though Tessa was conscious of when she left out a detail here or there. Apparently the Mortal Sword could be gotten around, if only slightly.

There were several moments during Charlottes speech when the Council members reacted audibly: breathing in sharply, shuffling their feet, most notably to the revelation of Jessamines role in the proceedings. "I knew her parents," Tessa heard Charlottes aunt call ida saying from the back of the room. "Terrible business-terrible!"

"And the girl is where now?" the Inquisitor demanded.

"She is in the cel s of the Silent City," said Charlotte, "awaiting punishment for her crime. I informed the Consul of her whereabouts. "

The Inquisitor, who had been pacing up and down the platform, stopped and looked Charlotte keenly in the face. "You say this girl was like a daughter to you," he said, "and yet you handed her over to the Brothers Will ingly? Why would you do something like that?"

"The Law is hard," said Charlotte, "but it is the Law. "

Consul Waylands mouth flicked up at the corner. "And here you said shed be too soft on wrongdoers, Benedict," he said. "Any comment?"

Benedict rose to his feet; he had clearly decided to shoot his cuffs today, and they protruded, snowy white, from the sleeves of his tailored dark tweed jacket. "I do have a comment," he said. "I wholeheartedly support Charlotte Branwel in her leadership of the Institute, and renounce my claim on a position there. "

A murmur of disbelief ran through the crowd.

Benedict smiled pleasantly.

The Inquisitor turned and looked at him in disbelief. "So you are saying,"

he echoed, "that despite the fact that these Shadowhunters kil ed Nathaniel Gray-or were responsible for his death-our only link to Mortmain, despite the fact that once again they harbored a spy beneath their roof, despite the fact that they still dont know where Mortmain is, you would recommend Charlotte and Henry Branwel to run this Institute?"

"They may not know where Mortmain is," said Benedict, "but they know who he is. As the great mundane military strategist Sun Tzu said in The A rt of War, If you know your enemies and know yourself, you can win a hundred battles without a single loss. We know now who Mortmain really is-a mortal man, not a supernatural being; a man afraid of death; a man bent on revenge for what he considers the undeserved murder of his family. Nor does he have compassion for Downworlders. He utilized werewolves to help him build his clockwork army swiftly, feeding them drugs to keep them working around the clock, knowing the drugs would kil the wolves and ensure their silence.

Judging by the size of the warehouse he used and the number of workers he employed, his clockwork army Will be sizeable. And judging by his motivations and the years over which he has refined his strategies for revenge, he is a man who cannot be reasoned with, cannot be dissuaded, cannot be stopped. We must prepare for a war. And that we did not know before. "

The Inquisitor looked at Benedict, thin-lipped, as if he suspected that something untoward was going on but could not imagine what it might be.

"Prepare for a war? And how do you suggest we do that-building, of course, on all this supposedly valuable information the Branwel s have acquired?"

Benedict shrugged. "Well, that of course Will be for the Council to decide over time. But Mortmain has tried to recruit powerful Downworlders such as Woolsey Scott and Camil e Belcourt to his cause. We may not know where he is, but we now know his ways, and we can trap him in that manner.

Perhaps by all ying ourselves with some of Downworlds more powerful leaders. Charlotte seems to have them all well in hand, dont you think?"

A faint laugh ran around the Council, but they were not laughing at Charlotte; they were smiling with Benedict. Gabriel was watching his father, his green eyes burning.

"And the spy in the Institute? Would you not call that an example of her carelessness?" said the Inquisitor.

"Not at all," said Benedict. "She dealt with the matter swiftly and without compassion. " He smiled at Charlotte, a smile like a razor. "I retract my earlier statement about her softheartedness. Clearly she is as able to deal justice without pity as any man. "

Charlotte paled, but said nothing. Her smal hands were very still on the Sword.

Consul Wayland sighed gustily. "I wish you had come to this conclusion a fortnight ago, Benedict, and saved us all this trouble. "

Benedict shrugged elegantly. "I thought she needed to be tested," he said.