Blog 12 -Chelsea Southworth

Another novel excerpt! Yay! No context needed for this one.

Jahylal started when he came into his office and saw a woman lounging on the couch. “How did you get in here?” he asked sternly, setting his books down on his desk and walking over to her. “This is private property.”

She raised an arched brow and looked up at him from the piece of parchment she was scratching on with a quill. “If you truly want it to be private, you should make it harder to get in.”

“You didn’t answer my question,” he pressed, not used to being denied a response. “Who are you?” As head of the city’s Council, he had guards posted outside of every one of his doors; it would be no easy feat to get into his personal office, yet here she was, without the slightest of disturbances having been created.

“A friend.”

“Give me a straight answer, or I will call in the guards and have you shackled into slavery for conspiracy against the city,” Jahylal said, his voice firm. He had not gotten to where he was in the government by buckling for every mysterious woman who would not tell him what he needed to know.

“That would not be wise,” she said with a trace of wry amusement. “But since I am a friend, and I admire your work, I’ll ignore that empty threat and tell you this: there is a threat to the peace of the city and the peace of the entire realm just outside of these city walls.”

That piqued his interest. “And what threat is this?”

“The Artists.”

He laughed and rolled his eyes. “The Artists? I know they are very gifted at what they do, but what, are they training their painters to fight with brushes? Are their actors going to make us laugh into submission? If this is all that you have to say to me, you can leave now.”

The woman sat up and looked him dead in the eyes. “The Artists can do more than that. Their musicians hypnotize, their dancers move people with only the force of their minds and their bodies’ movements, their actors change their faces and make you believe every word they say...and their writers change the very thread of reality.”

Jahylal laughed again, though this time it was a little more unsettled. “What proof do you have of this? The words of one woman cannot condemn the entire Academy.”

“No,” she murmured. “The words of one woman will condemn the entire Academy.” With a quick flick of her wrist, she dotted the parchment she was writing on - and that was when things changed.

“Oh-oh my!” Jahylal said, his voice suddenly an octave higher. He looked down at his body, now naked and completely female, in shock. “Wh-what is this sorcerer's trick? You witch!”

The woman ignored him, serenely continuing to write. As the words poured from her quill, Jahylal’s body began to change. Hips narrowed, shoulders widened, clothing materialized out of thin air. She looked up when she was done and he was back to normal. “Tell me again that the Artists are no threat.”

“I-I-it is you who are the threat,” he said with heavy breathing.

“If I was truly the threat, would I come to you and reveal my existence?” the woman asked him. “I left their order because these actions-changing another’s will to fit your own-are against everything we as /City-ans/, as Allahaleans stand for. We let them walk among us, yet no one knows their true power; they could be controlling you at this very moment and none would be the wiser.”

He ran his fingers through his short-again hair. “The people adore the Artists; they would never stand for me to lead an attack on them.”

“Let the people lead the attack,” she suggested. “Let it be known what Artists are truly capable of, and the rest will follow.”

“And what will this do for me?” he asked, still unsure.

She rose in a cascade of silk and walked slowly over to him. “You will be a hero. History will name you the man who saved us from tyranny. Every mother will name their child Jahylal or Jahyla.” Her lips barely brushed his ear as she whispered, “You will sit as Head of the Council for the rest of your years, never needing to fear for reelection.”

Jahylal swallowed, and gave a slow nod. “I will see it done, then. Will you do as you did to me to others, so the people know I speak the truth?”

She laughed scornfully, like she thought he was a fool. “And expose myself as a convenient scapegoat? No; I don’t have a death wish. There are, however, plenty of Artists out in the city right now. One of them might be…persuaded to show what they do publicly. Unless that doesn’t sound appealing to you, in which case it will be your word alone against the Academy’s.”

“I am not weak; I will do it.” He had done worse in his rise to political power and economic prosperity, and would do it all again if he had to.

The woman stepped away, a smile playing on her lips. “I knew I could count on you.”