Trial by Fire (Worldwalker 1)

Thomas Danforth sat back in his chair, deflated. Gideon had always known that his father was not a strong man and that he often caved to the wishes of the other men on the Council. Danforth was well liked among them for exactly that reason. Knowing his father wasn’t going to find the strength to convince the Councilmen, Gideon glanced up and looked into the corner of the room. Carrick stood with his back to the wall, huddled under a dark cloak, so that he nearly disappeared inside his own glowering shadow.

“Tell them what you told me about the shamans of your people,” Gideon ordered.

“Now he’s talking about shamans—the craziest of all the drubs,” Roberts muttered incredulously to Wake, throwing up his hands. Roberts leaned imploringly across the table toward the final member of that evening’s covert cabal, Councilman Bainbridge, who had until this point remained silent. “Don’t tell me you believe any of this nonsense, Bainbridge?”

Bainbridge’s face was stony. He wasn’t nearly as old as Roberts, but he was just as respected. He had a lot of innovative ideas, and had been elected by the citizenry in his district by a huge majority. He also had more reason than most to hate the near-totalitarian rule of the Lady of Salem’s Coven, as Lillian had squashed several of his pet projects for being “too scientific.”

“I’m not saying I believe it or don’t believe it,” Bainbridge said equitably. “But I am wondering why Lillian’s head mechanic would call this meeting to begin with.”

Gideon knew what Bainbridge’s problem was. Why would someone whose power hinged on the Witch want to meet with three men who had so long opposed the overreaching power of the Witch and her Coven? Gideon could sense Bainbridge’s caution. Gideon could be working for Lillian, trying to root out those who opposed her. But these men of the Council could never understand Gideon’s frustration. They had no magic. They had no idea what it was to be a mechanic who was claimed by a witch—no, chained to a witch—who wouldn’t use him.

“Because I’ve worked with witches long enough to understand why the Council hates them.” Gideon heard the edge of spite in his voice, and made no attempt to rein it in. “The Council is supposed to be equal in power to the Coven, and the two bodies of government are supposed to balance each other so no one group has too much power. But we know that’s rubbish. If the Coven doesn’t get what it wants all it has to do is put an embargo on electricity, medicine, meat, clean water—or any one of the dozens of things that witches supply the citizenry—until the people who elected you to stand up for them against the total control of the nonelected Coven demand that you give in to their wishes. How the hell is that democracy?”

“So all of this is for democracy’s sake?” Bainbridge asked with one raised eyebrow. Yet despite his disdain, Gideon could tell he was intrigued.

“The witch system has to go,” Gideon said finally, and watched the nervous glances dart around the table.

“Or rather, there needs to at least be an alternative to all the things the Covens supply the people, or the Council will never have any real power,” Danforth interjected quickly.

Roberts was already shaking his head. “And where are we supposed to get these things? The people need energy and food and medicine—how are we supposed to supply that for them? Not even witches can pull something out of nothing.”

“Really?” Gideon asked pleasantly. “Carrick. Would you please tell the distinguished gentleman of the Council about the shamans of your people?” he repeated pointedly.

Carrick’s deep voice rose up out of the darkness around him, like a bit of shadow had been turned into sound. “The shamans say that there are an infinite number of worlds, all of them different, and that their spirits can travel to them and come back.”

“And are these other worlds full of resources like energy and food and medicine?” Gideon asked.

“All that and more,” Carrick promised quietly. “The shamans say that everything you could possibly imagine is real in some world somewhere.”

“Nonsense,” Roberts scoffed. “That spirit-walking stuff is a tall tale used to comfort poor Outlander children when they realize their lot in life.”

“But what if it’s true?” Danforth proposed quietly. “An infinite number of worlds with an infinite number of resources…” He trailed off dramatically, and for the first time, Gideon understood why his father was head of the Council. He had a knack for using greed to get everyone in line with his agenda.

“If Lillian has found a way to bring a person from one world into another, is it so hard to imagine that other things

could be brought as well—the very things we lack, for instance?” Gideon added smoothly, after a suitable pause.

Bainbridge looked Gideon in the eye. “We’d need proof that other worlds exist before we make any move against Lillian.”

“It’s easy enough,” Carrick suggested quietly. “Find Rowan Fall, and you’ll find the other Lillian. Ask her where she came from.”

Bainbridge grew quiet, internalizing all the ramifications. He shook his head suddenly. “No. Fall still has all of the Witch’s favor and protection. She was always especially fond of him.”

“And he profited by it,” Roberts said lewdly. “I hear he owns the whole building he lives in. Great neighborhood, too. Could charge whatever he wants for rent in that area and make a fortune.”

Gideon stifled another wave of frustration. The Council always was jealous of the Coven’s wealth, and they begrudged how well the Coven paid anyone who worked for them—from the lowliest farmers who maintained the greentowers all the way up to the mechanics who were practically showered with riches.

“Does he still draw a salary from the Coven?” Wake asked, like the bean counter he was.

“No,” Gideon answered sharply, hoping to end this line of conversation. “I’m Lillian’s head mechanic now. What does it matter how well Lillian paid him?”

Roberts smirked at Gideon. “Proves how much the Witch cared for Fall, doesn’t it? Their fondness for each other is practically anecdotal. The two of them may have had a tussle over that business with his father, but magical folk are queerly tied to each other with all of the claiming nonsense. Much more than regular flesh and blood and common sense would deem suitable, in my opinion. All of this hullaballoo could be that this ‘other Lillian’ is simply the Salem Witch visiting her favorite.”

“In the Woven Woods?” Gideon interjected incredulously. “Not very likely.”

“But far more likely than what you’re suggesting,” Bainbridge countered. “No, you can’t openly challenge Rowan Fall without Lillian knowing. And even if he is no longer drawing a salary, she’s made it clear that Rowan Fall is still to be afforded all the privileges of a head mechanic. Making a move against Fall is far too risky. You need to find your proof elsewhere.”

“Yes,” Wake agreed, his pensive tone matching Bainbridge’s, “we’d need proof to convince the whole Council and a plan for how to access these other worlds, before we’d sanction you making any move against the Witch or Rowan Fall.”