On a Darkling Plain (28 page)

“As many of you are aware,” Guice continued, still addressing the house, “this domain has been experiencing a number of problems. I believe I can say without fear of contradiction that the trouble began when Prince Roger went insane.” Elliott stood up. “Yes, Elliott?”

“I take exception to the term ‘insane,’” the Toreador said. “It sounds so permanent. Roger has fallen ill, as even Kindred sometimes do, but we anticipate a full recovery.” “Speak for yourself,” Gunter growled. “I think as highly of the man as you do—”

Liar,
Elliott thought.

“—but there’s no point in closing our eyes to reality.” “Careful,” Elliott said. “Keep talking like that and they’ll throw you out of the Malkavians.” He was pleased when the

quip got a laugh. The more he entertained the crowd, the more likely they were to come down on his side.

Gunter grimaced. “Roger’s no better, even though we brought in Lionel Potter to take care of him.” He pointed toward the back of the hall. “The doctor’s sitting right there. We can ask him.”

Guice smiled out at the crowd. “Dr. Potter. Perhaps it would be helpful if you could enlighten us as to the prince’s current condition.”

Looking reluctant, the physician rose. Elliott surmised that the Caitiff was torn between the desire to sustain his reputation as a miracle worker and a wary unwillingness to make promises he might not be able to keep. “There isn’t any improvement as yet,” Potter admitted. “But neither is there any deterioration. I certainly remain hopeful.”

“Can you tell us precisely what ails the prince?” Guice asked.

Potter hesitated. “Not as yet.”

The Justicar frowned, not angrily, but in what Elliott assumed to be a bogus display of concern. “Or when we might expect him to return to his duties?”

“No,” Potter said.

“Thank you for your candor,” said Guice. Potter quickly sat down, and the Ventrue resumed speaking to the Assembly at large. “Inasmuch as we can’t assume that Prince Roger will make a speedy recovery, I’m afraid that we need to consider how Sarasota is likely to fare in his absence. Which is to say, how well it’s being led.”

“It isn’t being led at all,” Gunter said. He glowered at Elliott. “This...
popinjay
wants to run things by
committee.
It violates the Second and the Fifth Traditions.”

Elliott guessed that he should have officially proclaimed himself acting governor despite his concern about offending the pride of the Brujah and the Malkavians, but he hadn’t anticipated Gunter advancing this particular argument in

Conclave. It was too late to declare himself sole commander now; the maneuver would only make him look desperate.

“Actually, the situation doesn’t violate anything,” said Malachi Jones mildly. Everyone looked up at the prince’s box. Malachi struck a match with his thumbnail and lit a cheroot. Elliott admired the other Kindred’s oratorical technique. By making the audience wait for the rest of his observations, he was influencing them to weigh his words more seriously. “The Traditions merely direct us to respect those in authority. They don’t mandate that a single lord be in control. That’s the most common situation, but I can think of several cities governed by council, and I haven’t noticed anyone hauling
their
elders up in front of a tribunal.”

“Right on!” Otis shouted. It might well have been the first time that the free-spirited, copper-haired Brujah had ever endorsed a political position espoused by a conservative Ventrue prince. Evidently appreciating the incongruity, Malachi arched an eyebrow. Catherine and certain other members of the audience nodded in a more decorous show of support.

Pablo Velasquez stottd up. His slicked-back raven hair gleamed. “It seems to me,” the handsome Malkavian said, “that the question is, how well is this
particular
council holding things together? How well are they protecting the childer and obeying the laws of the Kindred?”

“They aren’t!” Gunter said.
“I’ve
been trying, but Sinclair invariably opposes me; and for some reason, probably his miserable Toreador charm, Judy always backs him up. Surely you’ve all heard about Dracula. The kine are starting to believe in vampires. The whole Masquerade is in jeopardy!”

Playing to the crowd, Elliott smiled and shook his head, conveying amused pity at Gunter’s hysteria. “That’s an exaggeration,” the actor said. “We have one rogue feeding indiscreetly. It’s happened before, in many other domains. We’ll trap the criminal and then, in a week or a month, the humans will forget there was ever anything amiss.”

“How close
are
you to catching the outlaw?” asked Guice. “My brood and I patrol the city every night,” Judy said. “But do you have any
leads?”
the Justicar persisted.

“We have a description of the killer,” Judy said. “Someone phoned it to us anonymously.”

Guice shook his head doubtfully. “‘Anonymously.’ I’m afraid that doesn’t inspire a lot of confidence.”

Glaring at him, her aura flaring red with anger, Judy took a deep breath. Afraid that she was about to explode, and that her outburst would prejudice their case, Elliott directed his charismatic powers at her. With a look, he implored her to hold on to her temper. Through gritted teeth, she merely said, “I promise, we
will
nail her.”

“Well, everyone certainly wishes you well in the endeavor,” Guice said unctuously. He turned back toward Gunter. “Are there other matters troubling you?”

“You’re damn right there are,” the flaxen-haired Malkavian said. “Since Roger went mad, Sinclair here has sent several of his clanmates to their deaths.” The spectators babbled excitedly. They’d already known about Roger and Dracula, but now they were hearing something that was new to them.

Guice frowned. “That’s extremely disturbing.”

“No doubt,” said Elliott, “you’re all aware that recently, around the world but primarily in North America, various works of art have been mysteriously destroyed. Each of those treasures was created by a Toreador of this domain, or by one of our human clients. Some enemy is vandalizing them to injure us.” The audience jabbered some more. “When we moved to protect the art, we clashed with our foes and suffered casualties. Unfortunate, but inevitable in war. I can assure you that every one of my clanmates felt the goal was worth the risk—”

“Only after you bewitched them with that voice of yours!” Gunter interjected.

“—and that we’ve taken measures to ensure our safety in the future.”

“With whom are you at war?” asked Guice.

Elliott positioned himself so that he was looking at the bench without turning his back on the audience. “We don’t know yet,” he said steadily, “but we’re going to find out, and God help them when we do.”

“That sounds very macho,” Gunter sneered, “but so far you’re only managing to kill your ou>n people, like poor old Schuyller Madison.”

The audience babbled even louder. Guice craned forward, peering at Elliott like a vulture on a perch. “You
killed
Sky?”

As
if you don’t already know,
the Toreador thought. “No. When I confronted him, he committed suicide to avoid capture and interrogation. He was a traitor, though it wasn’t his fault. One of our enemies forced him to accept a Blood Bond.”

“How do we know any of that is true?” Gunter demanded. “No one else was present when he burned to death. No one’s seen any kind of evidence of his guilt.” The Malkavian’s progeny yelled their agreement.

Elliott gave the ruddy-faced vampire what he hoped was an intimidating stare. “You know it because I told you so," he said.

Uncowed, his fangs peeking out from beneath his upper lip, Gunter said, “And why would I take your word for
anything1
You’ve been crazy with grief since your wife died, and everybody knows it. You’ve got no business trying to run anything!”

Elliott nearly smiled. Despite the seriousness of his situation, the inherent irony of being accused of lunacy by a Malkavian wasn’t lost on him.

“Elliott was together enough to kick
your
sorry ass,” Judy said. Her Brujah cheered, and other spectators laughed.

“Let them fight it out!” someone cried. Many vampires shouted in agreement.

Guice pounded with his gavel. When the clamor subsided, he said, “I’m not convinced that it would solve anything to have them fight. As I understand it, Elliott has already demonstrated that he can best Gunter in hand-to-hand combat, but the issue here is one of sound judgment and fitness to command, not physical prowess.”

“Clearly,” said Elliott, exerting his superhuman powers of persuasion once more, “the weight of the evidence is on my side.” Inwardly, considering the failure of his agents and himself to capture Dracula, or even to identify the enemies conspiring against Sarasota, he considered this a dubious proposition at best; but he wasn’t about to admit it. “It’s true that I went through a period of debilitating grief after Mary’s murder, but I’ve recovered. I believe that Judy, her progeny and the Toreador will vouch for me. That makes it our word against that of Gunter and his offspring, and there are considerably more of us than there are of them.”

Gilbert Duane rose from his seat. “But this matter isn’t just between you people,” the muscular black prince said. His deep voice was mellow and reasonable, a virtually schizophrenic contrast to his menacing glower. “Should you fail to preserve the Masquerade, our entire race will suffer. And as the master of my own domain, I object to your flagrant violations of the Fifth Tradition.” The Tradition in question, that of Hospitality, required a vampire visiting another city to present himself to the reigning monarch.

Elliott was glumly certain he knew what Duane was talking about, but he decided to play dumb and thus gain a few more seconds to consider a defense. “What do you mean?” he asked.

“I’ll let my vassal Francois explain,” Duane replied. “He and his progeny actually witnessed the crime.”

A cadaverous figure dressed in a top hat, a clawhammer coat and a necklace of human finger bones rose from its seat by the left-hand wall. The seats around it were vacant, and when Elliott caught a whiff of its nauseating reek, he understood why. The ghastly apparition smelled as dead as it looked

Even in his self-imposed exile from the affairs of his people, Elliott had heard that a handful of Samedi, undead of Caribbean origin as physically repulsive as the Nosferatu, had sworn homage to Duane. Evidently Francois was one of them.

“Many Toreador came to Little Haiti,” said Francois in a heavy Creole accent. “They did not see me, but, watching from the shadows, I saw them. I heard them talk about Sarasota and the crazy prince. I see them here again tonight.” Turning, stabbing with a finger that was as much bare bone as flesh, it pointed out several of Roger’s offspring. “You, and you, and you."

“I’m not following this,” Elliott said. “Unlike many of the rest of you, we Toreador travel frequently, and we make treaties with the princes of various cities for the right to pass through unhindered. And Gilbert, unless I’m as demented as Gunter has alleged, Roger long ago forged such a pact with you.”

“These men weren’t just visitors,” Francois said. “They were a war party, carrying many big guns. They fought a battle with their enemies in
my streets!”

Elliott realized that, in essence, the agitated Samedi had just claimed right of domain over Little Haiti. He suspected that such presumption, particularly in a public forum, might well anger Duane. But if it had, the Malkavian didn’t allow it to divert him from the main issue. “And the treaty
doesn’t
allow you to send heavily armed troops into Miami, or to conduct hostilities there,” said the prince. “Just as it
does
require you at least to phone my people and notify us of your presence within our boundaries. Otherwise, you
are
trespassing.”    .

Trying to look a little contrite, Elliott spread his hands. “You have a point, and I apologize. But the situation was an emergency. We had to move quickly in an effort to protect one of our human clients and his paintings.”

Gunter snorted. “You broke a Tradition for the sake of a kine and his pretty pictures. If that doesn’t prove what I’ve been saying about your judgment, 1 don’t know what would.” Certain members of the audience nodded grimly in agreement.

“I don’t give a damn
why
your people were shooting up my city,” said Duane. “No excuse is good enough. I’m sitting on the Sabbat down there, trying to keep them from marching north and destroying the rest of you—”

“My hero,” said Catherine dryly. Though the blond, statuesque Ventrue only seemed to murmur, her own charismatic powers allowed her voice to carry through the hall and trigger a ripple of mirth.

Duane shot her a glare as he continued. “—And the last thing I need is anyone else importing his personal problems onto my turf.” He looked around the auditorium. “Don’t you people feel the same way? Do you doubt that you’ve had gangs of heavily armed Sarasota Toreador sneaking in and out of
your
cities to steal back their precious art, ready to blast the shit out of anyone who got in their way, no matter how that jeopardizes the Masquerade?”

An angry muttering ran through the theater. Guice rapped for order. When the ugly sound subsided, he said, “It seems to me that this matter boils down to a question of confidence. Do we feel that events here in Sarasota are out of control, or not? And given that what happens here has implications for us all, would we prefer to see Mr. Sinclair, Miss Morgan and Mr. Schmidt continue to govern on Prince Roger’s behalf, or would we be more comfortable with a different arrangement? I’d like to determine the will of the majority.”

“In other words,” said Duane, “you want a vote. The present system versus... somebody. One acting monarch, the usual setup, and certainly the most effective in an emergency. I nominate” — he made a show of looking around the hall as, smirking, Gunter preened — “Pablo Velasquez.”

“I accept,” the Hispanic vampire said.

The situation could scarcely have been more serious. No new overlord was likely to desire Roger’s recovery, or to look after the interests of the Toreador as earnestly as Elliott had, A vampire from another clan probably wouldn’t allow them to defend their art or the human artists at all. It was even possible that Velasquez was one of their enemies and would use his new position to annihilate them.