Book of Glitch - Chapter 5

Part II

By the end of the service that afternoon, the majority of the guests returned to their villas and to prepare for the reception that evening. This was a relief since a few of the Incantare companions had caused a great deal of trouble already that morning—specifically, one of the Tamer-hyenas spent the majority of the service in trying to subdue a Terran-ferret.

The remainder of the congregation transitioned from the great hall to the judicial gallery for an impromptu council meeting scheduled to proceed the ceremony. I walked in between Gabbro and Syena, and took my seat in the Stonie section hardly noticing the grimaces the presiding Elders sent me. Since we were the last to be seated, it was evident that their scowls were directed at me.

I felt Syena reach for my arm and I turned to see that she was frowning.

“What is it, child?” I asked.

“Why is it that everyone is staring at us?” she asked in turn.

“They are not staring at us my dear, only at me,” I whispered. “They are not used to an Elder who has the sense not to squat with the game so close to the hunters.”

I nodded my head towards Miasma’s seat amongst the Shamans for good measure. Syena still looked troubled as she looked around the room.

“Abraham?” she whispered. “Shouldn’t father and the guards be sitting next to the Elders up front?”

I had forgotten it was her first council meeting, so she was still unaware of the arrangements made in order to “protect” the Elders from the more “hostile” variant groups. Let me just say that my vote had only ever been to keep the Shamans out of the meetings all together.

“Well it seems your friend doesn’t mind sitting apart from the Elders either,” she said with a nod toward Joshua.

I glanced up to see that the boy had indeed taken his seat next to the witch and her sister again. Thankfully however, they were the only Shams in attendance at the meeting and were seated beside the Tamers Brutus and Sebastian, who just happened to show up that day as neither had been elected by the other Tamers.

As the meeting began I studied the groups sitting about the gallery. The Elders were looking down at the rest of us from up in their elevated benches, with Caleb at the center as the interim Overseeing Elder. It had been well over half a millennia since I had attended a council meeting, and it was then that I truly started to look upon my old friends. I noticed that the lot of them appeared fairly unchanged, but a few looked worse for wear. Caleb in particular I saw had undergone a few subtle alterations.

That morning he had appeared robust and youthful, but now as he stood at the podium lecturing us I saw that his eyes were slightly sunken in and his cheeks seemed in want of replenishing. He still spoke with that forceful air of his that only periodically gave way to the light rasp that often trails our words. But I had also detected that his breathing was heavier than even my aged rhythm.

Yet his hair was the most difficult change to spot as his had always been an exceptionally brilliant shade of white compared to the other Elders. But under the unnatural light of the illuminators, there was no doubt that most of the strands on Caleb’s head had faded to a powdery gray.

I suspected that such dramatic changes, however well concealed, to his person were most likely due to some undisclosed issues with his health. Sham issues to be precise. I peeked over to where Miasma sat and my stomach churned with bile. The she-devil had kept the black veil over her eyes with her sister sitting in a similar fashion.

“Pardon me,” I spoke up.

Caleb stopped his speech and searched the room for the interrupter. His lips merged to form a straight line as a gust sounded from his nostrils.

“Abraham, if you would please save all questions until the situation has been resolved,” he replied.

“I’m sorry, what situation are you discussing at the moment?” I asked.

This time I saw a flash of his teeth as he made an effort to suppress a growl. 

“We...” he said through gritted teeth, “...have been trying to decide how to go about electing a new Overseeing Elder.”

“No, you Elders have been deliberating over who will be the next Overseeing Elder,” said Chief Hector. “You all did not call the rest of us here to seek our approval. Nor did you stop to consider asking if any of the other leaders might wish to act as Overseer.”

The other variants in the room began to whisper and soon grumble, until finally they were all shouting over one another.

“Good variants, please let us be civil,” Caleb begged.

“But he’s right,” said Dewla. “As the Head Atlantic Cerulean, I consider myself a viable candidate for Overseer and think it only fair to put it to a vote for the entire variant race to decide.”

This only renewed the uproar and each group began to make a case for their own kind. Dewla continued to argue that Atlantic Ceruleans were the most practical of the Incantare variants to oversee, as they resided in the waters adjoining to the most populous regions. In her rage, she had swollen up twice and splashed a great deal of water out of her bucket-chair.

She only ceased shouting when she sensed how dry her mouth and body had become. As her officers began to empty some of their water into her chair, I took the opportunity to observe how brittle her murky, barnacled limbs were without the necessary hydration. Seeing as how most reside on land or above it, I found it hard to see any validity in her case if a Cerulean could be so easily debilitated by a shortage of water.

In Dewla’s silence, Chief Hector’s voice sounded throughout the gallery asserting that Terrans should oversee the variants since the mining tunnels were in his territory and therefore he already controlled a great deal of the world’s wealth. His attendants began to holler in agreement with their chief and stamp their bare feet. You might imagine how the floor shook in that gallery as nine or ten heavy, muscular Terrans stomped on it.

Two Terran males had joined in the ruckus, but Hector glared at them until they had stepped back to his side and changed their skin tone to match his own. I caught myself staring since up until then I had simply thought that he was an especially large Terran since their matted dreads matched perfectly with Hector’s, which I then saw only came to his shoulders.

The chief’s argument managed to draw the attention of the Minor lawyer sitting next to her Elder father. She pointed out that if commerce was going to be the determining factor then a Minor should be Overseer since they preside over all monetary and legal matters between the variant nations.

The proposition was met with a prolonged moment of silent consideration. The Minors’ perpetually childlike appearance often made us forget that they had intelligence second only to the Cerebras. Their inherent steadfast honesty might be our best hope of restoring some sense of diplomacy between variant groups after the king’s passing, and their long life spans could not be overlooked. However, one of those beastly looking Tamers would not allow our deliberation.

“Why not put the Tamers in charge for a change?” barked Brutus. “Seeing as we capture the livestock you all use to fatten your bellies, I’d say we have just as much right to run things.”

His outburst enraged both the Colonel Dragoon and General Bolt so much that they growled in unison. They argued that since they were the only Incantare responsible for the majority of variant transportation, and more importantly in possession of militaristic skills, they were the clear cut option for joint Overseers. While the Bolt general had spoken, the illuminators in the room had flickered in sync with the impulses racing throughout his body.

Through the opening in his dark vest the veins beneath his transparent skin became so bright that his chest began to glow. His Dragoon companion, Pyra, had also become so heated while debating with the Tamer that her coal-black eyes seemed to burn red and her hairless skin glistened more vibrantly until steam was visibly wafting off of it. To this day I swear I could see flames lashing out from that fire-breather’s lips, and I feared she might set fire to the thick hair on Brutus’s furry body.

At the mention of transportation I had expected one of the few Aeros to make a case on behalf of the Cerebras and themselves. Instead those who had come to the meeting now floated above our heads in their solitary fashion, wisping about as though they had only come into the gallery to admire the paintings on the ceilings.

One female Aero happened to drift down too closely to Pyra’s mouth, so that the heat permeating from the colonel met with the the Aero’s arm just as she was inflating her flimsy limb. The sudden burst of hot air sent the poor girl shooting clear across the room and flying into an unsuspecting Elder.

“Abraham?” asked Syena. “Do you think father is going to make a case on behalf of the Stonies?”

I looked to my left to see that Gray and Gabbro were sitting stoically on either side of Phit, who had been shouting for someone to bounce the Aero girl to over to him. Granita sat with her hands folded neatly in her lap looking the model of nobility next to an empty seat. Basal had indeed gone to the head of the gallery to speak with Caleb, but I knew there was no chance that he might be offering himself as a candidate. As the elected Stonie representative, Basal did his best to represent his variant group responsibly to the Elders and the Incantare leaders.

“I imagine your father is reminding Grand Duke Elder Caleb that we do not have all day to debate this issue,” I informed her.

And as Phit lobbed the Aero female back up to the ceiling, the need for order became more evident to Caleb.

“Everyone please that is quite enough,” he spoke. “We are all of us worthy candidates for Overseer, but let us all maintain our civility. No resolution will come if we are unwilling to act as a united front.”