Chamber of Paladins, Geneva

Terra, Prefecture X

27 November 3134

Jonah Levin, wearing the full-dress uniform of a Paladin of the Sphere, presented himself at the Hall of Government in the early afternoon.

For this trip, Jonah had taken a taxi from the Pension Flambard, rather than traveling on foot or by public transport as was his more usual habit. The streets of Geneva, today and for the next month, were going to be crawling with tri-vid photographers and with news reporters of all stripes. A taxi could deliver him straight to the main entrance of the Hall and into the arms of the security cordon stationed there, while giving the predatory newshounds only a minimal chance to attack.

Jonah was a firm believer in the public’s right to know, but he was an even firmer believer in his own privacy. As far as he was concerned, his opinion of the Exarch’s decision to call for an early election, and his thoughts on which of his fellow Paladins might be suitable for the job, all fell into the category clearly marked as “personal information; nobody else’s business.”

Once past the security barrier, he ignored the shouted questions, the clicking and whirring of tri-vid cameras as operators jostled one another for position, and strode quickly into the Hall. Answering just one question would be worse than answering none. He could look earnest and in a hurry and preoccupied with important Paladin-level thoughts, and get away with saying nothing—but if he said anything at all, he would either have to throw the floor open to questions from all sides, or risk an accusation of playing favorites.

Inside the Hall’s rotunda, a couple of the Exarch’s aides were deftly moving the arriving Paladins off to a small waiting room at one side. The room was crowded, and rapidly growing overheated as well; it wasn’t really meant to hold so many people at once. Tempers were already starting to fray.

The first thing Jonah saw and heard as the door to the rotunda closed behind him was Tyrina Drummond, impressive in the combination of a full Paladin’s uniform and Clan Nova Cat ritual tattoos, complaining sharply to Maya Avellar, “What are we being kept in here for?”

“They want us to cross the rotunda and enter the Chamber of Paladins together, I think,” Paladin Avellar replied in calming tones. “It will look better, this first day, than having us straggle in one at a time.”

Drummond remained unmollified. “Better to whom?”

Jonah felt moved to rescue Avellar, who had never, to his knowledge, meshed well with the Nova Cat Paladin. “For our friends outside with the tri-vid cameras, I suspect.”

“Scavengers,” said Drummond, tight-lipped, and Jonah reflected that none of the Clans had ever dealt easily with or truly understood The Republic’s press. “Voyeurs.”

“Mouthpiece of the people,” Kessel countered. His steel gray hair looked as perfect in person as it did on camera, the location of each strand carefully chosen. “Remember the people? The ones we’re supposed to serve?”

Drummond only glared in return.

“They’re the eyes and ears of all those who can’t be here today,” Jonah said, not entirely comfortable to be agreeing with Kessel. “If they see us do this right, their support will come more easily.”

“We shouldn’t have to keep winning their support,” Drummond grumbled.

“Being seen entering the chamber together in good order will reassure people,” Heather GioAvanti chimed in. “Right now we have their future in our hands; they’ll want to believe we’re not treating it as a casual matter.”

“You trust them too much,” Thaddeus Marik said in a quiet voice that somehow carried across the room. “The people—the media—they thrive on innuendo, on rumor, more than on truth. They will tear us apart sooner than encourage support for us. We’re letting vipers into our home.”

Drummond, GioAvanti and Kessel all started to reply, and Jonah rolled his eyes. They weren’t even going to get into their chambers without an argument.

“Either we take this election seriously, or we do not,” Drummond was saying heatedly. “Feigning for the tri-vids will not change what is within.”

“There’s no harm in showing our dedication,” said Heather GioAvanti, “so long as we’re not simply posing. But if we feel contempt for our people instead of respect”—here her glance flicked to Marik—“that will show.”

Marik opened his mouth, but the opening of the doors behind him stole away his retort. The Exarch’s senior aide stuck her head in through the gap. “Everybody here? Good. We’re all set up for you to enter the chamber now.”

The Paladins fell silent. The door swung all the way open, and they proceeded across the rotunda to the massive double doors of the chamber. Somebody had thoughtfully laid down a strip of deep red carpet to mark the path—nobody wants to risk the Paladins getting lost on the way, Jonah thought; it would look bad for The Republic—and had put up gold barrier cords on either side. Looks like they don’t want us escaping, either.

He knew he was doing the Exarch and his staff at least a partial injustice, out of a dislike for being forced into so much show. The cords would have primarily been set up to keep the spectators and reporters from getting underfoot.

One after another, the Paladins filed into the chamber and took the half circle of seats nearest the Exarch’s podium. Unlike the rest of the tiered rows of seats that filled the Chamber of Paladins and the balcony above, these seventeen places were more like booths. Each one contained a fully equipped desk and two chairs, one for the seat’s official occupant plus another for conversations and conferences.

The rest of the chamber filled up quickly. The rows closest to the Paladins were filled by those Knights of the Sphere who were in attendance, and the aides and staff members of the seventeen Paladins. Beyond that, the seats were packed with commentators and tri-vid reporters and sound and camera operators. As many as there were in attendance, they still didn’t fill the giant, echoing hall.

The Exarch’s place remained empty; Redburn would enter the chamber last, through a different door. More theater, Jonah thought, to emphasize the Exarch’s separation from the Paladins, despite having been elected from among their number. At least half of Devlin Stone’s genius—the underappreciated half, in Jonah’s opinion—had been for public relations and the language of dramatic symbolism.

Three of the Paladins’ seats were empty today as well. One of them had been largely unoccupied for as long as Levin had been a Paladin, since Victor Steiner-Davion seldom left his semiretirement at the Knights’ headquarters complex in Santa Fe. The second was a more recent emptiness. Until last year, that seat had belonged to the traitor and fallen Paladin Ezekiel Crow. The third was David McKinnon’s; he was involved in the fighting on Skye.

Today the tri-vid cameras—on booms, or on wands, or in the hands of nimble operators standing on chairs or balanced in window embrasures—were focusing on Crow’s empty seat. One of Damien Redburn’s last important decisions as Exarch would be the appointment of a new Paladin to fill it. Speculation about likely candidates had been rife in the newssheets and on the live media, and on the street as well, ever since Jonah’s arrival on Terra.

The small door next to the Exarch’s podium opened. A hush fell over the chamber as Damien Redburn entered and moved to stand behind the podium. Light flashed off a hundred lenses as the myriad cameras changed position to record the Exarch’s words and actions for posterity. Even from his seat among the Paladins, Jonah could see that Redburn looked more tired than usual, as though he had either stayed up all night or had been awakened rudely from sleep.