Chapter 19: Twelve Cloaks

Dawn Watch's council met on the shingle at sunset, because the hall had burned with the rest.

There were twelve of them, old wolves in grey cloaks, seated on a line of upturned boats.

Joss knelt in front of them in chains.

Behind him stood the families of Redcliff, the Warden's witnesses, and the whole of the Iron Hollow host.

I stood to one side with the stolen silver ring in my pocket and Corvin at my shoulder.

The eldest councillor was a heavy man with a white beard and a voice that had settled every dispute in Dawn Watch for thirty years.

He did not look at me.

He looked at Joss.

"Alpha," he said. "You are accused of the death of four hundred of your own. By the pack law, this council must hear it."

"Then hear it," Joss said, easily. "The council swore to me. I chose each of you. You know what the men in Redcliff were. Traitors, every one."

"They signed a petition," said a woman at the end of the line.

"They plotted to unseat me."

"They asked for a vote."

"It is the same thing."

"It is not," the white-bearded man said slowly. "You told this council the Redcliff men had gone to hold the keep. You told us it was an honor."

The Warden unfolded the page Tobin had kept and held it up to the sunset.

"Four hundred names," she said. "I will read the ones that belong to the people on those boats."

She read.

"The son of the eldest councillor."

"The grandson of the councillor beside him."

"The brother of the councillor at the end of the line."

Seven of the twelve heard a name of their own blood ring out over the water.

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