less forceful sounding than usual. She had aged since the battle, thought Svein, and her wrinkles looked tired rather than lending her face its usual authoritative aura. “Let us deal with the matter in an orderly way. We all of us have things to do.”
“Agreed.” The last thing that Svein wanted to do was to spend all day wrangling over the mistakes of the Central Allocations team. He had a good lead on his own personal quest that had been sent to him by the librarian at Fiveways and he wished to spend the afternoon looking into it.
“Firstly we have to reappraise the allocation of solar panels to Hope District. Proposals?”
“Give them ten more?” suggested Bekka. Svein smiled at her; she was always the most generous of the Central Allocations committee.
“Five.” It was obvious that Ragnok hated to give the rustics anything at all, but even he knew it could not be helped.
“Seven,” said Wolf.
“Seven. How about seven?” Hleid looked around the table to passive faces and shrugs. “Seven it is.”
“What a nightmare.” Halfdan shuddered. “There is going to be a flood of claims now.”
“Indeed.” Svein scowled frostily to remind Halfdan that for all his fanciful black garb, Halfdan’s supposedly invincible warrior was one of those responsible for the mess.
“Next,” Hleid hurried on, “battle analysis—and let us try to be constructive.” She sighed. “Perhaps a non-combatant’s view would be useful to begin with.” Hleid slowly looked around, peering over her glasses. “Bekka, what did you think?”
“Me?” Bekka was surprised. As the committee’s druidess she was more usually called upon to help make potions and cast spells involving animals than to discuss battles. “Well, let me think.” She paused, looking intently at her hands for a while in concentration. She was taking the responsibility of the question very seriously. At the very moment that Ragnok let loose an exaggerated yawn, Bekka continued, “What I think is that our side did not fight as a team. Wolf is too used to fighting opponents without silver or magic weapons and wasted his life trying to win the fight on his own. I think that the team should perhaps have defensive or warding spells up first, not Thorkell’s dramatic attempt to wipe out all our opponents with one lightning bolt. I think that they should have discussed a plan before commencing battle. Basically, I think our team was racing to see who would get the glory of killing the opposition and failed to work together or take the other team seriously.”
“I got the healer.” Wolf spoke up, angrily, arms behind his head; he had one foot up on the table, his chair tipped back as far as it could safely go.
“Yes, but that’s all. You are worth more than a fifth-rate healer.” Brynhild seemed particularly ready for an argument today. Voices began to rise all around the table.
“Members of the committee, please. Let’s respect the desire of the chair to keep matters constructive,” Svein called out above them all, then dropped his voice. “I believe that Bekka has analyzed the battle accurately and that all we need to do on this item is to adopt a resolution that in the future all teams will meet before the conflict is due to start and discuss tactics. We used to do that without fail, but we have grown complacent.”
“Is that a formal proposal?” Hleid asked.
“It is.”
“I second it,” Ragnok spoke up.
“In that case, a vote please. All those in favor of Svein’s proposal, please show.” Hleid peered around the table. “Unanimous. Good.” Her gaze dropped back to the sheet in front of her. “In which case the next item is the character belonging to Harald Erikson. Comment.”
“His poison was powerful. Really powerful. I can normally take five or six strong hits before dying.” For once casting aside his persona as a great scholar and the ultimate wizard, Thorkell sounded apologetic; his permanently quivering hands were
“Agreed.” The last thing that Svein wanted to do was to spend all day wrangling over the mistakes of the Central Allocations team. He had a good lead on his own personal quest that had been sent to him by the librarian at Fiveways and he wished to spend the afternoon looking into it.
“Firstly we have to reappraise the allocation of solar panels to Hope District. Proposals?”
“Give them ten more?” suggested Bekka. Svein smiled at her; she was always the most generous of the Central Allocations committee.
“Five.” It was obvious that Ragnok hated to give the rustics anything at all, but even he knew it could not be helped.
“Seven,” said Wolf.
“Seven. How about seven?” Hleid looked around the table to passive faces and shrugs. “Seven it is.”
“What a nightmare.” Halfdan shuddered. “There is going to be a flood of claims now.”
“Indeed.” Svein scowled frostily to remind Halfdan that for all his fanciful black garb, Halfdan’s supposedly invincible warrior was one of those responsible for the mess.
“Next,” Hleid hurried on, “battle analysis—and let us try to be constructive.” She sighed. “Perhaps a non-combatant’s view would be useful to begin with.” Hleid slowly looked around, peering over her glasses. “Bekka, what did you think?”
“Me?” Bekka was surprised. As the committee’s druidess she was more usually called upon to help make potions and cast spells involving animals than to discuss battles. “Well, let me think.” She paused, looking intently at her hands for a while in concentration. She was taking the responsibility of the question very seriously. At the very moment that Ragnok let loose an exaggerated yawn, Bekka continued, “What I think is that our side did not fight as a team. Wolf is too used to fighting opponents without silver or magic weapons and wasted his life trying to win the fight on his own. I think that the team should perhaps have defensive or warding spells up first, not Thorkell’s dramatic attempt to wipe out all our opponents with one lightning bolt. I think that they should have discussed a plan before commencing battle. Basically, I think our team was racing to see who would get the glory of killing the opposition and failed to work together or take the other team seriously.”
“I got the healer.” Wolf spoke up, angrily, arms behind his head; he had one foot up on the table, his chair tipped back as far as it could safely go.
“Yes, but that’s all. You are worth more than a fifth-rate healer.” Brynhild seemed particularly ready for an argument today. Voices began to rise all around the table.
“Members of the committee, please. Let’s respect the desire of the chair to keep matters constructive,” Svein called out above them all, then dropped his voice. “I believe that Bekka has analyzed the battle accurately and that all we need to do on this item is to adopt a resolution that in the future all teams will meet before the conflict is due to start and discuss tactics. We used to do that without fail, but we have grown complacent.”
“Is that a formal proposal?” Hleid asked.
“It is.”
“I second it,” Ragnok spoke up.
“In that case, a vote please. All those in favor of Svein’s proposal, please show.” Hleid peered around the table. “Unanimous. Good.” Her gaze dropped back to the sheet in front of her. “In which case the next item is the character belonging to Harald Erikson. Comment.”
“His poison was powerful. Really powerful. I can normally take five or six strong hits before dying.” For once casting aside his persona as a great scholar and the ultimate wizard, Thorkell sounded apologetic; his permanently quivering hands were
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