***

Hoika sat at the ground landing in the Hall of Records, billowing his clothes, more out of habit than anything else in the midday heat that still penetrated the cavernous room. He drummed his fingers on the random tablet he read. Doivi sat beside him, her back rigid, but her head lolling back lazily. She tapped her foot slowly, marking the passage of time until their colleagues arrived.

 He yawned and she shot her gaze at him, eyes like daggers. 

“If it were Hegwous who asked, the lot would have arrived by now,” Hoika said.

Doivi turned her head but kept her eyes on him.

“It is ridiculous. Putting a child on the northern throne. Do they even have thrones?” he asked but Doivi scoffed. “What was her name? Tofa? Tolpi?”

“Focus, governor. There are more important issues at hand.”

Hoika started to pace, marching up and down the landings and stomping his feet like they would call the other nobles, even though they made no sound. “How many more days until the new moon?”

“Twelve now,” Doivi growled. “Although I heard the Gwomon will arrive early.”

“What?? Already? The plan is already in motion.”

“There’s little motion until we have at least three others at our backs.”

Only the soft, secret clang of bronze outside signaled the entry of the others. The personal guards bearing the Rhino of Hoika’s house bowed, fist together and saluted the nobles. After confirming the passcode of “Fire burns the foolish '' the heavy cedar door opened and the other seven came in one by one.

“Why couldn’t you have done this at night?” Governor Vitroi of the east whispered as they fanned out, taking seats or resting against tables. Most gwomoni seemed to float over the ground as they walked, but Vitroi seemed to slither.

Some of the gwomoni turned to him with sneers and he scowled, but a few others groaned in agreement. 

“Why couldn’t you have come on time?” Doivi retorted softly. She brought the hem of her deep blue sash up around her neck. It glinted in the remnants of dim sunlight prickling through the door. She drummed her bejeweled fingers on her crossed knee while the eight other gwomoni exchanged pointed looks. 

“Maybe I shouldn’t have come at all.” Adhin Bhida, the head of house Bhida wiggled his lips under his patchy beard.

Arthkwatye, the head of the treasury, replied in a voice like tin bells. “Shut up.” 

Hoika slapped his hands together. “Let us begin.” 

Doivi gently leapt to sit on the record’s index. “Why have you all agreed to our plan?” 

“Have you?” Hoika echoed, his voice lower and revealing some of the rage that initiated this call to arms. 

They chimed in all at once, a cacophony of melodic tones, gravelly tenors, and whispered hisses. 

“We’ve allowed him to lose at his game for far too long.” Governor Traanla shook her wrinkled head. “He has abolished our trust, his capital and Gehsek’s ports will flourish while we flounder?” 

“When will our heads belong to that miserable creature?” Bhida asked.

“How hard is it to send aid to rebuild our walls? He’s funneling all the funds here for himself,” Hoika stated.

“He’s losing control of himself and the rest of the plateau. Our being here proves it,” Governor Vitroi added. “He couldn’t even finish his first conquest.”

“His winning streak is at an end,” General Malik said.

“Winning streak? Did you not hear that creature?” Doivi chortled. “Janelsa’s spirit carries on as does her line. Hegwous won’t defeat the north, nor could he protect spymaster Upavid from that now braindead Maharaj and her dhanur. Now Lord Hegwous can’t even keep us from killing him.”

Hoika and Doivi looked to Arthkwatye, who hadn’t spoken. 

Arthkwatye fidgeted with her hair. “In fairness, the current lack of trade or cowries is partially due to the scorching as we cannot collect taxes due to the increase in the Outside’s hostility—”

General Malik cut her off. “Not enough warriors?? He’s securing the routes south for the Gwomon! We could use them as scouts in the jungle! More of our people fall to northern patrols every day. What if they finally decide to invade? What if they’re destroying the bridges to make us complacent? Maybe they’re digging a tunnel to us right now?!” He stared down the record hall, listening for northern chisels. 

“I bet he’s not even securing anything. We can hold our own lands against the Outside fine.” Hoika scowled. “What a clever ruse, sending capital troops to reconnoiter us.”

“That would be a wonderful plan.” Vitroi nodded. “I’d do that.”

“Of course you would, toad.” Governor Traanla turned her head, her frayed, gray hair barely moving.

Vitroi shrugged at his neighbor, the tortoise sigil on his shoulder bending. “Turtle.”

“Has anyone even seen the Gwomon before?” The kitchen master Paluka finally spoke up and got between them, then placed his hands on his hips.

Everyone was silent until Arthkwatye said, “Wasn’t that man from the other night one, the one riding on a cart?”

“That’s what Gehsek said.” Malik stuck his thumbs into his belt. “He’s also stood by Lord Hegwous after that thing scorched half the south. And I don’t care if he finally said something to Hegwous in the throne room!”

Arthkwatye sighed, having been shut up before she even said a word.

“Supposedly they should be crossing into your lands soon, Bhida,” Vitroi said.

“Am I supposed to cater to them?” Bhida flustered, but everyone let him stammer as they rolled their eyes or scoffed at his ineptitude. 

All except Arthkwatye. “If you were, the Lord wouldn’t have called you here,” she said.

“Why do you care?” Doivi leapt from the pedestal and sauntered over to her. 

The governor was at least a head taller than the small, meek woman who was as pale as one would expect from someone who counts inventory all day. 

“You’ve been around him for a while too!” Arthkwatye declared, swatting away Doivi’s imposing sash that dangled between them, then glared at Hoika and Malik. “You all saw Janelsa extract tribute for nothing! He gave you back your lands! Let you control them how you wished and demanded fewer taxes after. Vitroi, you wouldn’t have been able to try constructing that dam if she were Maharaj. Things are bad, yes, I see it more than you.” She stormed past them, down the stairs, to the exact shelf she needed, plucked two tablets, and threw them to Doivi. Both had Arthkwatye’s mark. “Before and after. I see how little you’re all paying now but Hegwous has already found more traders to bring food to the people of the Capital and your own lands despite the scorching. The Outside is regrowing. Perhaps if we decided to help him oust that spirit or whatever it is, he would be more amicable. Perhaps it’s holding him hostage.”

“Oh, come now,” Ahbigah chuckled and pushed back her hood, scratching her head. Unlike Traanla, whose hair was gray, Ahbigah’s had completely left her. She didn’t rise from the tiny stool stuffed in the corner. “You hear plenty, I hear plenty.”

“The crone can hear now?” Malik crossed his arms, his armor echoing through the hall. 

Ahbigah nodded. “It’s okay, General Malik. I know you are angry and did not mean that.” She turned back to the shell counter. “You hear as well as I do how Hegwous protects that thing, refuses to hear anything against him. But he is no fool. Of that we agree? Of course we do. We wouldn’t need such a cabal so long after his conquests if he were.”

“Gehsek is—” Malik started, but the crone rose her finger.

“Is Gehsek a fool? No. No no no. He protects the Lord and the Lord protects that wretched fire creature. The blood of one of my girls feeds it. Hegwous may have failed many times, but he has succeeded in others. He and Gehsek brought not only Janelsa to heel, but the only house strong enough to stand against her as well.”

“For all we know that thing is working for Janelsa!” Arthkwatye crossed her arms. “Perhaps she’s a more powerful spirit than it! Maybe she even commanded it to burn the south and Hegwous is keeping us alive by appeasing it.”

“If it even is a spirit,” Paluka added by waggling a fat finger.

“Janelsa would never,” Hoika declared, crossing his powerful arms that made Arthkwatye uncross hers.

“He’s right. She did love her land.” Doivi shrugged.

“If Janelsa was that strong, she wouldn’t need that thing to work for her,” Malik said. “She’d batter down the walls herself.”

“I thought those Runes on the walls kept spirits out,” Bhida finally contributed. 

“Clearly they do. And clearly that scorching thing isn’t a spirit,” Doivi added.

Vitroi stopped cleaning his nails. “Guess they’re not spirits then. At least not the scorcher and Janelsa’s daughter. Ugh, can we name it already?” 

“I heard Deiweb,” Traanla preened at remembering something he didn’t.

“Then Janelsa’s daughter must have been scouting for her. She must be gwomoni,” Hoika puffed out his chest.

“Janelsa? Working with a gwomoni?” Doivi mused.

“You saw how she kept her daughter in every meeting. I’d bet half my house she was thrilled that her daughter became stronger than she’d ever be.” Hoika reminded her, to which Doivi nodded. 

Malik cocked his head. “Surely they’d go for Hegwous first. Why not let them kill each other and we deal with the winner?”

“If they even want us dead.” Doivi had taken her place back at the center on the pedestal. “We can deal with them after we kill him. Removing him and Gehsek will force Janelsa and that thing to make a move and we can parse out their motivations, especially when we have full control of the plateau.”

“This is too many moving parts for me,” said the head cook amongst the centuries old governors and military veterans.

“Are you all even listening to yourselves??” Arthkwatye ran in front of Doivi, throwing her arms out in exasperation. “Was it all really so bad before the scorching? You’ve all had your failings. Did anyone try to remove you for the failure of that dam, Vitroi?” 

“Actually, yes. It was quite draining on our coffers. Surely you must have received a copy of our records.”

Arthkwatye balked, stammering to recover. Still, the room stared her down. “B-But, it’s that- Perhaps—”

“What, are you his lover?” Doivi snickered. “Good luck with that fantasy. You’re not his type. I reiterate, why are you here? Why not rat us out? Did you hope to dissuade us? Would you continue to employ a worker who crushed half your shells in one day? Of course not. So,” she turned to the group, “we’re in agreement then?”

“I’m sure one of my girls can pass for Arthkwatye until we are done.” Ahbigah slid her hood back on as Malik drew his ax.