Mrs. Claus looked alarmed as Great Aunt Marraine laughed.
I tapped my fingers on the desk. “It’s fine! I have something for you, in that case.” I crouched down and began pulling stacks of paper out of my cloth bag.
“They’ve discussed it, you know.” Bobby stared at the growing stacks of paper with dread. “Adept Luna and Adept Bakersfield both pushed to at least draw up a draft of such a law.”
I set another stack of papers on the desk. “But they were outvoted?”
“Yes,” he glumly said.
“I figured as much—it’s why I came prepared. These are all for the council members.” I separated packets of papers that were so thick they had to be clipped, not stapled. “They are neatly organized for review. These complaints come from Senior Wizard Ed Clark, and Franco Clark regarding the treatment they received under Mason and House Tellier and House Rothchild. They’ve filled out the necessary forms and have included essays.”
Bobby looked the forms over, then squinted up at me. “You have a document saved with all of this, don’t you?”
“Bobby!” the perfect secretary hissed.
Great Aunt Marraine made a tisking noise. “Such a foolish boy.”
Bobby turned to his coworkers. “But these forms always look almost identical! And the essays are almost exact copies!”
“The keyword is almost.” I leaned over the desk, subtly invading his territory. “Franco and Ed have added a few of their own special touches to their complaints. And if the Wizard Council members don’t address those specifics when they write up their reviews, I will drag this to the Regional Committee of Magic.”
Behind me, Great Aunt Marraine chortled.
Bobby gulped loudly.
At least his reaction proved my method of payback was hitting them all in a sore spot.
Since the Wizard Council refused to do anything about House inheritance, I was slowly doling out complaints from myself and the members of House Medeis. I had written up the original form and essay and, as I had said, everyone went through and made a few minor changes.
This was the most painful—legal—method I could think of. The staff below the Wizard Council had to process the paperwork—which involved scanning, summarizing, notarizing, and placing it in public places. Meanwhile, all the wizards on the subcommittee had to read the complaints and write up personal reviews.
And I did this every week. Which meant week in and week out, they were reading the same story and forms over and over and over again.
Thankfully, this was the Curia Cloisters I was dealing with. I’m pretty sure if I’d been dealing with a human government, they would have thrown me out by now. But since there isn’t a law against it, the Wizard Council couldn’t stop me from doing it.
Bobby glumly started collecting up the thick files. “I’ll send these to the members of the Wizard Council immediately, Adept Medeis.”
“Thank you!” I said in a sing-song voice.
“Adept Medeis.” Perfect Secretary cleared her throat. “While you are here, I have some official offers of an alliance.”
“Oh goodie!” Great Aunt Marraine rubbed her hands together and shuffled over to the secretary, who was retrieving a few pieces of thick, creamy paper from a mailbox slot on the back wall.
Since House Medeis had grown so much and had risen so high through the ranks, we now had an official mailbox at the Curia Cloisters. Anyone who wanted to offer an alliance to us had to make the offer through the Cloisters. The official reason was to make sure the bigger Houses couldn’t bully the smaller ones, but I’d seen how spectacularly that had failed. In reality I think it was just because the Wizard Council was nosy, and even if the members were rotated on a yearly basis you can bet they’d do everything in their power to try to make things easier on their own Houses.
“Here.” Perfect Secretary passed the thick sheets of paper over. All of them had wax seals pressed into the bottom of the paper, stamped with the House’s coat of arms.
Great Aunt Marraine fixed her glasses, then snorted. “Rothchild? They dare to ask us for an alliance? Hah!” She ripped the offer into thin shreds, then pulled out an envelope from her massive hand bag and put the ripped paper in the envelope. “We’ll have to stop at a post box on our way home, Adept.” She slapped a stamp on the envelope and scrawled out the address of House Rothchild.
I rubbed the back of my neck and smiled. “Sure! Sounds great to me!”
House Rothchild was forever on my black list for helping Mason, so being petty like this was a huge morale boost. (Plus, I figured it wasn’t as awful as what I wanted to do, which was have a good slug out with their traitorous Adept, who supposedly had once been a friend of my parents!)
“Let’s see…who else? House Nells, House Fischer—no, nope.” Great Aunt Marraine casually tossed the offers aside.
I folded up my cloth bag, only half listening as she continued.
“House Schnider, House Luna…”
“Wait, House Luna?” I asked.
Great Aunt Marraine retrieved the paper she had cast aside. “It seems so, yes. It’s an official offer, but since Adept Luna is currently serving on the Wizard Council she requests that the alliance not start until January of next year, when her term ends.”
Adept Luna supported my request to make some laws about House inheritance, and when I had gone before the Wizard Council to request that they officially name me as Adept—since I had been the Heir, even though I’d been turned out of the House by Mason—she was one of four wizards who had sided with me.
“Let’s accept that one.”
“Splendid!” Great Aunt Marraine swiped the offer. She pulled a manila filing folder from her purse and slipped the offer in it before returning her attention to the other offers, collecting them in a pile. She gave Mrs. Claus and Perfect Secretary a beaming smile. “As for all of these scallywags, you can tell them to go to—”
“Adept Medeis!”
Faintly recognizing the voice, I turned around. “Elite Bellus, good morning!”
Whispered murmurs of “Elite Bellus!” wafted through the office as the staffers stood and smiled at the Elite.
The Elite was the most powerful wizard in our region. He served on the Regional Committee of Magic, and frequently communicated with the Wizard Council—although he was officially banned from taking part in local politics as a check to his power, which is why he had been unable to help me.
He was a clean-cut man with a well-groomed goatee and silvery hair that he slicked back. Both his appearance and his clothes—navy blue slacks and a black sweater vest—gave him a sort of kind, professor-ish appearance, but really he had the mind of a steel trap and was as sharp as they come, even though he was kind, too.
“I thought I could catch you in here about now. Care to join me for a cup of coffee in my office?” the Elite asked.
I glanced at Great Aunt Marraine, who dipped her head to me. “Go ahead, Adept. I’ll take care of everything here.”
“Thank you.” I gave her a quick side hug, barely escaping when she reached for my ear.
She—and probably every staff member present—was likely wondering how I came to be on speaking terms with the Elite.
Granted, I had spoken to him a lot after I got House Medeis back as I tried to unravel everything Mason had done. But that investigation had closed a month ago.
I waited until we were in the hallway—the door closed behind us—before I made my guess. “You have something you want to ask me about Killian Drake, don’t you?” I wryly asked.
Elite Bellus smiled at me. “No, of course not! Well, perhaps indirectly.”
When I stared at him he winked and beckoned me down the hallway.
To illustrate his separation from the Wizard Council, Elite Bellus had his own private offices with a much smaller staff—a secretary, two guards, and at least one aide were always floating through the front rooms.
When we entered, Elite Bellus took a tray that held two steaming mugs of coffee from his secretary, then led the way through a maze of desks and tables to his office.
Elite Bellus’s office had a big window with a spectacular view of the lake that elbowed its way through Magiford. The water was dark, but still beautiful as the last of the red, yellow, and orange leaves fell off tall trees.
I plopped down in the overstuffed, plaid chair positioned in front of his massive desk—which was barely visible thanks to the stacks and stacks of paperwork he had scattered around the room.
“Still bearding the Wizard’s Council, are you?” Elite Bellus offered me a tiny pitcher of cream.
“I’m not going to let them relax until they get an inheritance law on the table for discussion.”
“And the more they resist?”
I grinned. “The more paperwork they’re going to find waiting on their desks. So far we’ve only been lodging complaints about Mason. We can still register complaints on all the Houses that actively worked against me.”
Elite Bellus laughed heartily. “I like your style. It’s legal, but you’re going to push until you force their hand—or drive them insane. Well done.”
“Thank you. So. What did you want to discuss?”
Elite Bellus took a sip of his coffee, then slapped a folded piece of paper on top of the stack of folders closest to me. “I’d like to invite you to this.”
I set my coffee aside and picked up the paper, unfolding it so I could see it was an invitation to an event. “A meeting?” I asked, reading the top line.
“Yes. A mixed group of magical races is giving a small presentation. Everyone from the Regional Committee will be there, and we were each allotted a number of extra invitations to give to the movers and shakers of our community. I’m choosing House Medeis as one of my invitees.” Elite Bellus smoothed his goatee and offered me a sweet smile.
I glanced back at the invitation. “What’s the presentation about?”
“An inter-species police force and local government. The group is from South Dakota, where magical races of any sort have had to pool resources to survive. They claim it has helped reduce fights, increase morale, their community has grown as a result—all the usual claims.” He waved his hand, dismissing the achievement.