Crow hadn't intended to invite attention to himself, either: his
proper role, for the nonce, is to lie low and maintain his surveillance of the gathering, in preparation for Brahmbei's promised revelation. But Dossevsky's biting reply to Hazan has shattered the facade of dignified discourse, and Kingsley's own words --
Dash it, scalpel-lady: you may be a tigress in debate, but this
isn't the time! -- have further inflamed the situation. Hearing the remarks to follow, with growing disbelief and disgust, the bard has to admit that Draxton, however gauche he'd been to speak Van Rijn's name aloud, has a point.
"Gentlemen!" he cries out, rising to his feet, his voice resonant with considerable dismay. "Forgive me if I repeat another's words, but our Richemuloise colleage speaks rightly: this is
not the time to accuse one another! Such infighting serves no one's cause but the Traitor's. Are we to turn upon each other, and achieve for ourselves the decimation he failed to inflict upon us, that night?"
He turns to face first Dossevsky, then Li Shou, with a withering glare of indignation.
"Were you
there, Brothers, to face down the Traitor and his minions, fighting side by side with us? Did you, like
Brother Hazan, see your own circle of Brothers bereft of home and refuge? Did you face threats any
man would have had due cause to quail before, and keep up your wits and courage, for the
Fraternity's sake? On what grounds can you rightly accuse those who
were there, and
did fight, of negligence or disloyalty? Will you question the worthiness of those who
died next, because they lacked the cunning to survive the assault?"
He shakes his head in exasperation, nods briefly at Draxton.
"I am unsure if 'genius' is the word for our betrayer, or 'madman'. More fitting, I would think, is 'desperate': we saw how dire his illness was -- those of us who
were there -- and only a madman
and a brilliant one would contemplate the...
recourse he appears to have taken." The bard shudders visibly, and pauses, to let the word 'lich' make its ghastly, unspoken presence felt. "If that illness advanced even half as rapidly as it seems, then Brother Hazan could not have known how frantic the Traitor had become, nor what treacheries he might resort to, to avert his own extinction. As best I've gathered, none of his colleages in Ste. Ronges had seen or heard from him in months, prior to the incident."
The spy turns back and forth, looking from Kingsley to Li Shou, then back again.
"As for the Fraternity's wider policies," he continues, "that is a matter that bears due consideration, but not
now. In future, certainly, a re-examination may be called for. Perhaps, in the troubled days to come, those of us whose qualifications are ... unorthodox ... may have further opportunities to prove our worth to those who doubt it; perhaps, in the end, our option to advance -- even our existing memberships -- may be revoked, for the sake of security. But in either case, let that decision be made at a time when the Fraternity
as a whole is not under attack: for now,
every loyalist among us -- illusionist or evoker, sorcerer or bard -- is an
asset, not a point of controversy!
"And let it be decided with rationality and wisdom, not panic or prejudice. Anything less than that, and the Traitor won't
have to act against us, Brothers: we'll destroy
ourselves, without any further effort on his part."
Another sharp glare around the room, as if daring anyone to voice further accusations toward Hazan
or the non-illusionists, then he takes his seat.
[OOC: Crow's using Diplomacy in its mediating-between-parties aspect. Not his best skill, but he got a 22, to try to calm things down.
[In staring down potential hotheads, at the end, he's also taking a swift look at everyone in the ballroom, in case Brahmbei has something to show him.
]