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Phelan leaned over to Evantha. "Look, you did great things on Tukayyid. I'll nominate you, okay?"
She frowned. "You must learn to speak properly, Phelan, if you expect to get anywhere in the Clan Council."
"Does that mean no?"
"That means wait and see what we are up against."
Conal pointed slowly to a man in the back. "I recognize you, Kevin Carson."
A youngish man rose and clasped his hands behind his back. "Fellow Wolves, there is only one obvious choice for Khan. He is a man who, leading the Red Wolves, managed to inflict incredible damage on the Com Guards. His unit proved crucial in the final push that drove the Com Guards from the Pozoristu Mountains. Furthermore, he should already have been made a Khan when Ulric was rightfully elevated to the role of ilKhan. I speak, of course, of our Loremaster, Conal Ward. I hereby place his name in nomination."
As Carson seated himself, he noticed Conal had lost some of the color in his face. What is going on?
Natasha leaned forward. "Would you not like to speak to that nomination, Conal?" she asked, her voice rimed with irony.
Conal cleared his throat. "Yes, Khan Natasha, I would." The Mechwarrior stood and nervously folded his hands together. "I am honored by the nomination, but I must decline that honor. I feel it is not my time."
He smiled weakly and glanced at Natasha.
The Black Widow smiled coldly. "And?"
Conal looked stricken. "And while I realize this is a very difficult and critical time for the Wolf Clan, I do not feel I am able to continue in my role as Loremaster. I, ah, hereby tender my resignation, effective immediately."
Natasha's smile grew wider. "And?"
Conal winced. "And I have decided to ask the ilKhan to excuse me from my position in the Red Wolves so I may go out and hunt down bandits."
Natasha nodded slowly. "Is there anything else?"
"Yes, Khan Natasha." Pain writhed across his face like a sidewinder. "I would like to take this opportunity to place in nomination the name of the candidate I, ah, personally believe should be elected as Khan. I throw my full support behind his candidacy. I, ah, nominate Phelan Ward."
Phelan rocked back in his chair as Conal all but collapsed into his seat. My God, they did make the punishment fit the crime.
Evantha stood and Conal recognized her. "I would second the nomination of Phelan Ward. How could we deny this honor to the youngest individual ever to win a Bloodname? Who among us, for all of our glorious actions in battle, has taken a world without a single weapon being fired?" She rubbed at her jaw. "And what MechWarrior among you has defeated a single Elemental in hand-to-hand combat?"
Light laughter greeted her question. "As well, who among us knows so intimately the people we have conquered and will yet have to fight? There is no question as to his qualification for this honor, the question is: are we wise enough to see that?"
Evantha sat back down and slapped Phelan's leg with an open hand. "See? Now you have no need to nominate me."
"What Ulric did to Natasha, you have done to me." Phelan shuddered. "And I thought you were a friend."
"I am, Phelan. I am a friend of yours and a friend of Clan Wolf." She looked over at the ilKhan. "I am his instrument, as are you. Ulric has been grooming you for this since you first showed more intelligence than any other captive. He knew, as did many of the rest of us, that having leadership who could understand the I
"Besides," she smirked, "watching Conal squirm was fun, quiaff?"
"Aff." Little by little, bits and pieces of things were begi
I had assumed that Ulric might have seen me as a younger version of himself. That may have been true, but he wanted me to succeed because he wanted a bridge between the Clans and the I
Natasha pointed to a woman standing over on the right. "Conal, before you go, I believe you should recognize Katya Kerensky."
Conal grimaced and Katya spoke. "I move we close nominations."
"Seconded," a
The Loremaster stood wearily. "In light of the motion on the floor, we would be electing Phelan Ward to replace Garth Radick. Given the gravity of the meeting he will attend, I, ah, believe, ah, fervently that we should elect him by acclamation."
"I see no objection to that." Natasha stood and started to clap. Conal joined her half-heartedly, then the others in the Clan Council started in. Evantha grabbed Phelan's shoulder and half-hurled him to his feet, then he walked up the aisle and stood beside Natasha. As the applause died, she sat and winked at him. "Say something."
Phelan took a deep breath and willed his heart to stop pounding so loudly. "Words are insufficient to express what I feel at this moment of great honor. As we all know, words are valueless when compared to actions, so I will let my actions in acquitting this vast responsibility show you how grateful I am." He let a wry smile onto his lips and looked out at everyone assembled in the room. "Let me just add that finally I feel as though I am where, freebirth or not, I was born to be. Thank you."
Applause washed over him again and Phelan could not help smiling broadly. Conal stood and dismissed the meeting with the words, "Thus shall it stand until we all shall fall," and Phelan repeated the words with conviction. I am really home.
He turned to Natasha. "Now that you and Ulric have gotten me into this, what am I supposed to do?"
She looked over at Ulric and the ilKhan smiled. "Be yourself."
The Wolf Clan Council filed out of the room and the room underwent a slow transformation. Panels slid up on the bulkheads to reveal monitors evenly spaced around the room. One by one, they flickered to life. In them Phelan saw the head and shoulders of various Clan Khans. The masks they wore—similar to Ulric's during the ceremony, but appropriate to their Clans—obscured their identities.
The doors at the far end of the room opened and twelve individuals marched in. The Khans of the Clans who had participated in the attack on Tukayyid filed into the rows and sat down in silence. Because they also wore masks, Phelan could recognize none of them, but two—one from the Smoke Jaguars and one from the Steel Vipers—walked with limps he put down to injuries from the recent fighting.
Phelan glanced at Natasha and whispered, "Shouldn't we be wearing our masks?"
The Black Widow shook her head. "Slavish adherence to formal ritual is a sign that one has nothing ..."