A perfectly round brass bowl sat on the table. As the Chairperson touched a wooden stick to it, the pure sound of the bell rang out though the hall, slowly reverberating into blissful silence. All the Council members took a deep breath and gratefully closed their eyes for a brief respite.

But Lenoren's thoughts were still churning. Now the assemblage was almost over, but they had been on the topic of the Canopy for hours. And lapsing. In theory, Council members should always see their own personal truth as just one piece of a larger puzzle, as one small shard longing to be complemented by many other colors in a mosaic, until the overall image would emerge. They were supposed to share humbly, and to listen deeply.

But instead, they had made fervent pleas. For the cause of regional integration, for the spirit of exploration, and for friendship across borders. For a broadening of horizons both in geography and culture, in mind and spirit. Not to mention all the advantages of commerce that a stronger bond with the countries upriver would bring to Yurvania.

Just as fervent, however, had been the pleas for preserving independence and autonomy, and gloomy warnings about being swallowed up by some humongous entity of unknown destiny.

The rapid growth in power and importance that the Canopy had seen during the last few years seemed to have made both the advocates and the opponents of integration only more passionate about their respective causes.

Lenoren had made her own appeals. Slipping, like so many of her colleagues, away from the professed ideal of listening for the shape the future wanted to take, from that quest for wholeness. Blundering instead into pushing her own positions and trying to haul everyone else along.

Nevertheless, it had still worked out somehow, hadn't it?

An overall picture did emerge, after all. They had come to an agreement as to how Yurvania would go into the upcoming Canopy gathering. It was not perfect, Lenoren felt. But it was not bad, and it left some room for maneuver, some readiness to respond to things that might unfold only at the actual gathering. So, good enough.

But now, Lenoren, as most other Council members, was hanging in her seat somewhat limply, thinking of fresh air and food.

But they had not quite finished. A few small items were still on the agenda. Miscellaneous.

"On the Mountains," the chair announced in a dragging voice. "Details to be found in the addendum to the background papers. Anyone to share on that motion?"

Lenoren pushed herself upright with some effort. "Yes."

* * *

"Woah!"

Enim stared at the note in his hand. Then at the large, formal parchment. "Woah."

He sat down.

Torly took the envelope from his hand and pulled out some more papers. She began to read while Yoor fully unfurled the parchment on the bay balcony. Enim stepped up to him and ran a finger over the beautifully embellished inscription.

'Scroll of the Special Representative for the Mountains.'

He had been appointed. He, Enim.

Enim shook his head, dazed. "Now what is that?"

All around him, dark clouds gathered. A tiny bird perched on the banister, holding on to the wrought iron with thin feet, hesitating to throw himself out into the stormy wind.

Enim rubbed his chin. "I really did not mean to get myself a position. I wanted the county to come in. But now the county sends me?" He licked his lip. "To do what, exactly?"

Torly looked down at the papers she had pulled from the envelope. "Well, it sort of says here."

Enim was by her side in an instant.