Fulcrum of Light (Catalyst Book 2) C.J. Aaron (unputdownable books .TXT) 📖

recovering to do from your ordeal,” she announced, flashing a placating smile toward Brasley. “My name is Irie, I'm the voice for this cycle’s Council.”

She dipped her head in a slight bow, before sitting slowly in her chair. Irie was a tall, slender woman, with light brown hair that was pulled back into a bun atop her head. Her skin was bronzed from the sun, yet her deep brown eyes still stood out against her tanned skin. Like the rest of those seated beside her, her clothes were the same utilitarian wear he'd seen from the others within the city. Around her neck hung a gold chain and pendant, with the stem and spike of a wheat plant beautifully carved into its center.

“As you may have heard, Vim is represented by a Council of five members,” Irie continued. Her voice was cordial. There was no hint of condescension as she relayed information that was undoubtedly common knowledge. “Each member serves for a term of one cycle before another is elected by the will of the citizens of Vim. We represent the elected officials for each of the main disciplines within the city. I am proud to represent our agricultural endeavors.”

Ryl nodded his head as she continued. His fascination with the knowledge he was gaining overpowered any residual effects from the poisoning and his recovery.

“To my left are the representatives for the academic and artisan classes,” Irie continued with a gracious sweep of her hand in their direction. “Councilor Oswill is the voice of our academic order, while Councilor Heild represents our artisans.”

Ryl had held no preconceived notions of what the councilors would look like. With few exceptions, all he’d met or seen in his brief stay here in Vim had appeared to be in remarkably well-maintained physical shape. Their condition was likely a testament to a life spent working with little time for either the glut of excess or the sloth of laziness. The academic and artisan representatives seated before him were no exception to this observation. Both councilors looked to be physically fit and in excellent shape. As their names were called both nodded their heads in turn.

Oswill appeared to be the elder of the pair, seemingly nearing his fiftieth cycle. The hair had departed from the top of narrow oval-shaped head, yet his mustache and beard were still brown, flecked with scattered patches of gray. One hand subconsciously rubbed the beard on his chin as he smiled in greeting cocking his head slightly to the side. Ryl felt his inquisitive eyes studying him, dissecting him as if he was the next mystery waiting to be solved. Around his neck hung a similar golden chain with pendant as the one Councilwoman Irie wore. Etched into the center of Oswill’s was a meticulous carving of a book and pen.

To his left, sat Councilor Heild. The councilor had an altogether disheveled look. His wavy, blond hair was in a state of disarray, appearing as if he’d only recently been roused from slumber. His large, round eyes shifted wildly, never seeming to focus in one place for long before darting off to the next. Heild’s hands were in a constant state of minor motion. He fidgeted with a small wooden handled tool moving it idly as he nodded his greeting. The pendant around his neck contained images of an overlapping paint brush and a small chisel.

“Seated to my right is the representative for the military order,” Councilwoman Irie continued. “Councilwoman Lenu represents the Vigil, the proud defenders of Vim.”

Councilor Lenu rose from her seat, bowing slightly at the waist before returning to her chair. She was a short woman, standing only a head higher than the seated Councilwoman Irie to her right. Her face was marked by a long vertical scar that ran from her temple to her cheek. Her thin lips were locked into an impassive pose. Her muscular features shown through the thin fabric of her tunic, and she wore a sword at her hip. The medallion around her neck featured two crossed blades, set atop a circular shield.

“Lastly, Councilor Paasek,” Irie continued.

“Represents the phrenics,” Ryl interrupted, his eyes locking on to the astute gaze of the councilor. A small smile cracked across the man’s lips as he nodded his head in greeting.

“Aye. That’s correct, my friend,” Councilor Paasek intoned, his voice gruff, yet kind.

Paasek, the last of the councilors introduced was the most muscular of the group. His right arm bulged from under his loose-fitting shirt, and his left arm was tattooed from wrist to shoulder. The pattern of his tattoos was unlike anything Ryl had seen before. The intricate designs made the entirety of his arm appear as if it was made of stone. Ryl pondered to what sect the councilor belonged. Judging by his physique, his guess would lean toward the physical sect over that of the intellectual or elemental.

The features of Paasek’s face mirrored the stony facade of his arm. His cheeks and jawline were rigid, his nose wide and short. The angular features gave his head a square look. The councilor’s hair was cut close to the scalp along the sides, while the top was left longer and spiked. Even the dull gray iris of his narrow, squinted eyes followed suit with his rocky appearance. There was no medallion hung around his squat neck. He wore no phrenic cloak.

Ryl felt a wave of calm and welcome wash over his body. He gazed at Paasek with a knowing look before focusing his energy in an attempt to send a sliver of the feeling back to the councilor. He slumped forward as the exhaustion threatened to topple him, catching himself with his forearm on the table. Paasek nodded his head subtly in recognition, though a touch of concern registered across his face. Out of the corner of his eye, he caught Kaep shaking her head.

“You two will have time to get better acquainted soon, Ryl,” Irie added. “Owing to the limited numbers, our phrenic councilor is