Rook

punched, with only sharp, shrill exclamations shooting out of their lips. Finally, after a high-pitched
kiYAA!,
they settled back, breathing heavily, and explained that Eliza had just broken the neck of the leader of the antler cult, and that the complex was secured.
    “Wow. Great,” said Myfanwy. “Nicely done.”
    “Hmm,” said Tidy Twin absently. “Eliza has blood on her boots.”
    “That’s lovely, Gestalt,” Myfanwy said, trying to keep her cool. “More coffee? Or more orange juice? No? Perhaps I could have Ingrid fetch you a couple of moist towelettes.”
    O nce the twins had left (still somewhat unsteady on their feet), Myfanwy sat for a long time turning things over in her mind. After their commentary on the strike, the twins had had trouble focusing on the rest of the agenda, and they’d agreed to attend to the remaining administrative details later. Watching the satisfaction with which the twins narrated the attack and hearing the play-by-play of their sister’s skill, she’d felt her own muscles tensing. The bruises on herbody ached, and she could easily imagine the twins beating her, their eyes coming alive with violence.
    I can
not
meet every member of the Court and automatically assume that he or she is the traitor,
she decided.
It’s entirely possible that Gestalt didn’t order the attack on Thomas and that I spent the entire meeting sweating through my clothes for nothing. But who
did
give the order?
Myfanwy leaned back in her chair and laced her fingers behind her head.
    Too many questions. And I don’t even know everything that Thomas knew. Not yet. But I will.
    She reached for the purple binder.
     
The Rooks
    For the first few centuries, the Rooks were the martial leaders of the Checquy. That is to say, they headed all military actions. Traditionally filled by members of the noble class, the position called for an encyclopedic knowledge of tactics and strategy, but little else. If the Pawns were the blade the Checquy swung, then the Rooks were its hilt.
    The old leaders of the Checquy looked upon the Rooks as weapons and nothing more. They were the hounds to be released, and even if they were the heads of the pack, they were still only hounds. In 1702, it was the Rooks who led the four-pronged assault on Brigadoon and burned every structure in the place. Some of its citizens were put to death, and the rest were shipped down to Wales, where they were set to mining lead. The properties of the mines prevented any of those extraordinary people from escaping, and they all perished in captivity. (In the late 1960s, however, an individual claiming to be “the last son of Brigadoon” surfaced and wreaked havoc for years before being subdued and dissected.)
    One notorious Rook, Rupert Chamberlain, was kept chained up in the vaults beneath the White Tower until he was needed, at which point he was transported in a cage to the appropriate location and unleashed upon whatever hapless target the leaders had selected. During his tenure, he devoured the Duke of Northumberland, the ambassadors of France and Italy, an archdeacon, and one of his fellow Rooks.
    Then, in 1788, the situation changed drastically. A massive redistribution of power led to the new status of the Rooks. Rather than being the generals ofthe Checquy, the Rooks were placed in charge of all domestic affairs. They became the administrative guardians of the United Kingdom. Now if something strange comes up within the British Isles, the Rooks are the ones who deal with it. We are executives, and though we still periodically mete out violence, it is by delegation. We don’t have to get our hands dirty unless we want to. I, for one, prefer to remain in the office, but Rook Gestalt seems to enjoy fieldwork.
    Your main concern will be to master the running and politics of the domestic Checquy forces. You’ll be meeting with and coordinating the teams of Pawns who work in the country and assigning them to various tasks. You will also oversee the management of the Rookery, working closely with Gestalt.
     
    Oh, that’s going to be fun,
Myfanwy thought.
     
And you meet regularly with the other members of the Court to coordinate the Checquy’s movements.
    It’s all fairly self-explanatory, really.
     
    Oh, well, thanks an awful lot, Thomas,
Myfanwy thought bitterly.
It sounds like I’m the Defense Minister of Ghosts and Goblins, but as long as the job is “all fairly self-explanatory,” I’ve no doubt it will be fine. The