Rook

the current situation précis,” she said, handing Myfanwy a leather folder. “Now, can I fetch you some coffee?”
    “Yes, coffee would be wonderful. Please,” Myfanwy said as she walked hesitantly into her office. For a moment, she paused there and looked around, trying to drink in the lingering traces of her predecessor. It was a large room, and beautifully furnished. Two of the walls were massive sheets of glass looking out on the city. A collection of portraits hung on the other two walls. In one corner of the room, a vase holding an arrangement of roses stood on a heavy table. There was a large antique desk before her, and off to the side was a sitting area with couches and a coffee table. She gingerly sat down behind the desk and eyed the many piles of paper stacked on it with a certain amount of trepidation. They all looked official and important. She carefully cleared a space on the desk and cracked open the folder Ingrid had given her.
    There was mention of the plague in the Elephant and Castle and the wrap-up details related to that. There had been three incidents over the weekend, none of which had required the presence of Barghest commandos (whatever they were), and there was a scheduled assault on an antler cult that morning, with E. Gestalt attending. Seven people were under surveillance in the greater London area, and thirty-four overall in the British Isles. Preliminary preparations had begun for the annual review.
    Well, that’s all very nice,
she thought.
If I knew what it meant, I’m sureI’d be thrilled. Anyway, it seems to be under control, so back to my scheduled programming.
    Myfanwy was looking through the desk drawers curiously when Ingrid came in with a cup of coffee and an appointment book so thick it could be used to bludgeon a cow. Myfanwy took a long contemplative sip as her secretary began to describe her schedule.
    “Ingrid?” she said.
    “Yes, Rook Thomas?”
    “Um, I’m sorry to interrupt, but can I get some cream and sugar in this coffee, please?” Her secretary looked at her blankly. “I’ve decided to change the way I take it.” Myfanwy felt the need to explain the abrupt change in a habit that (for all she knew) had been established for years. “I’m doing that because…”
Why? Because I want to put on weight? Because I’ve been told I need more sugar in my diet?
“… because I’ve been sleeping badly. And so I wish to dilute the caffeine. But not to cut it out entirely. Because of the headaches.” Ingrid looked at her a little strangely, for which Myfanwy couldn’t blame her at all, but took the coffee and went to modify it.
God, who knew it would be so horrendously complicated impersonating oneself?
she thought, and opened up Myfanwy’s folder.
     
Assassination of Court Members
    One of the reasons this whole plot has been so difficult for me to suss out is that there has been relatively little internal assassination of Court members in the history of the Checquy. Given that it’s a centuries-old militant organization that operates under a shroud of secrecy with a plethora of baroque (and sometimes rococo) traditions and bureaucracy,
and
that most members are trained to kill and equipped with supernatural capabilities,
and
that members of the Court wield authority with a terrifyingly free hand, you might expect there’d be more internal violence.
    But no.
    Oh, there’s been some assassination by outside organizations (supernatural and otherwise—Lord Palmerston had a Bishop shot), and plenty of deaths in the field, but as far as I can tell, there have been only four illegal deaths of Court members that were the work of other Court members. Therehave been a few legal executions, of course, including a monumental slaughter in 1788 that was only later declared legal, but the big four illegal ones are notorious:
     
In 1678 Lord Charles Huxley was thrown down a well on the orders of his wife, Lady Adelia Huxley.
In 1679, Lady Adelia Huxley was beaten to death with a kettle by her husband’s lover, Bishop Roger Torville.
In 1845, Rook Angelina Corfax was run over by a barouche. It was eventually discovered that this was done at the command of her counterpart, Rook Cassandra Bartlett.
In 1951, Bishop Donald Montgomery was strangled with his own tie by Rook Juniper Constable.
     
    Naturally, it is illegal for one member of the Checquy to kill another—not just because it’s murder, but because it strips the British Isles of part of their defense. In