The Tyrant by Eric Flint and David Drake

* * *

Their difficulty began almost immediately. Speaker Chollat rose and made the ritual speech which opened a session of the Council. Fortunately, old custom held here still—the speech was mercifully brief. As brief as possible, in fact, which was Chollat’s subtle way of indicating his continued neutrality. Chollat was, essentially, a prestigious non-entity. He had been elected Speaker of the Council the year before simply as a compromise between the factions—a position he apparently intended to retain.

No sooner had Chollat finished than one of Albrecht’s principal supporters was on his feet. “I urge the Council to declare this session invalid!” he boomed. Quaryn was a big man, tall as well as fat. His voice was positively stentorian.

Speaker Chollat, still standing on the floor of the chamber, opened his mouth to protest at such an abrupt—almost rude—demand for a ruling. But Quaryn overrode whatever he was going to say.

“No debate! An urge for invalidation takes precedence!”

True enough. Demansk glanced toward Jeschonyk. He and Tomsien had agreed to allow the old Speaker Emeritus to be the “gray eminence” of their projected Triumvirate. The purely political maneuvering in the Confederacy’s capital was Jeschonyk’s domain—and specialty.

Judging from the cheerful smile on the Speaker Emeritus’ face as he rose—almost a predatory grin—Demansk relaxed. Whatever his personal vices and limits as a field commander, no one had ever accused Jeschonyk of lacking skills in the endless maneuvers of Vanbert politics.

“Agreed!” shouted Jeschonyk. “No debate! I call for an immediate vote!”

Demansk could see Quaryn’s heavy jaws tighten. Clearly enough, Albrecht’s man had wanted some squabbling over procedure in the hopes that confusion might fray the ranks of his enemies. The quick and ready willingness of Jeschonyk to move straight to a procedural vote was the old man’s own way of clashing assegai against assegai. He was signaling his confidence in victory to the triumvirate’s supporters.

Sure enough. The vote rolled in quickly, even following Quaryn’s insistence on an individual count of the voices.

For continuing the session: eighty-seven.

For declaring it invalid: fifty-eight.

It was as clear a procedural victory as any in recent Council history. And Jeschonyk used the boost of confidence to keep the tide surging.

* * *

It was late in the afternoon before Demansk rose to speak. By then, it was clear, a majority of the Councillors leaned in favor of establishing a new Triumvirate to supercede—temporarily—the authority of the Speakership. Their motives varied, from personal greed and ambition to simply wanting to be on what they perceived as the winning side.

Their concerns varied as well. Many, of course, really didn’t care in the least about the troubles ailing the Confederation. But many did, and those concerns ranged from the fear of a slave revolt, to further depredations from the pirates of the Isles and the Southron barbarians.

A handful even thought in terms of the more long-term health of the Confederacy. Not many, to be sure, but some. Demansk made a note to seek them out for private discussions in the weeks to come. He intended to break the power of the aristocracy, but he had no desire to shed more blood than was necessary—and knew as well that the political skills of the noblemen would be needed in the years ahead. Those of them, at least, who could be won over to supporting the new regime.

Still, although the tide was running heavily in favor of Jeschonyk’s proposal, at least half of the Councillors were still wavering. Their fear, of course, was of the rise of a new Marcomann. And almost all of them had a single target for those fears: Demansk himself.

He alone, really, presented the possible danger. Jeschonyk was too old, and not enough of a military commander, to make a creditable dictator. As for Tomsien . . .

Ambitious enough, yes; wealthy enough, yes; and few doubted he was unscrupulous enough. But although Tomsien had a respectable record in terms of military experience and command, it was nothing compared to Demansk’s. Among modern leaders of the Confederacy, only Demansk had the aura of Marcomann about him. Not simply the record of success in the field, but—what was even more dangerous—a proven capacity to gain the loyalty and allegiance of the ranks of the army.

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