The dragonlord bowed from the waist, making an elegant flourish despite the fact that he was sitting down. "I do."

"And who are you?" There was a lavish amount of humor in Daisani’s voice as he asked, though his expression remained as grave as before.

"I am Janx." The sibilant hiss of his own name carried a soft challenge that sent another stir around the table. This time Daisani allowed himself a smile and returned Janx’s half bow, evidently accepting the abrupt answer as sufficient.

"Who stands for the vampires?" Margrit still missed whatever subtle prompt allowed the Old Races to speak with one voice so easily, though Janx joined Biali in silence now that he’d been recognized.

"I do," Daisani murmured, then waited a delicious moment to see if anyone had the audacity to voice the question that was clearly his to ask. Malik shifted in his seat but held his tongue, and after a moment Daisani smiled again. "I am Daisani, called Eliseo, and I am the master of my kind."

A thrill shot up Margrit’s spine and her hands went cold, though none of the others looked surprised by Daisani’s statement. He saw her stiffen and cast an amused wink toward her, enough to throw her off as Kaimana asked, "Who stands for the djinn?" She joined in only on the last few words, her higher voice startling against his.

Malik’s lip curled again, his gaze sliding to hers, but he restrained himself to an, "I do," before his focus became intent on Daisani and his question. "I am Ebul Alima Malik al-Shareef din Nazmi al-Massri of the desert wind and I claim this place by rite of passage."

Surprise and admiration washed through Janx’s expression, and he caught his breath as though he’d speak. He held his tongue, though, and a sudden warning flashed through Margrit. Kaimana was the only one left of the Old Races still unrecognized, all of the others having fallen silent after their introductions were made. There was no one left to demand she identify herself, her presence a disruption to what smacked of ages-old ritual. Before she could think, before anyone could speak, she lifted her voice, pleased with its strength and clarity. "I stand for the humans."

To her astonishment, approval flashed in Daisani’s eyes as he asked, without hesitation, "And who are you?" Buoyed by his acceptance, and ignoring both a hard stare of offended disbelief from Malik and Biali’s contemptuous snort, she lifted her chin. "I am Margrit Elizabeth Knight, advocate for the Old Races."

Janx looked delighted, and a surge of glee danced through Margrit. They’d invited her to their party, and she had no intention of going unnoticed. She turned her attention to Kaimana, and with everyone else, asked, "Who stands for the selkies?" Her own soprano contrasting with the thundering chorus lifted hairs on her arms and stirred the men, though none of them quite broke form to look at her instead of Kaimana.

He came to his feet with ponderous grace. "I do." He turned to Daisani, waiting out the question of identification before replying, "I am Kaimana Kaaiai, immortal selkie lord and leader of a changing race. I am your brother and tonight I am your supplicant, speaking for my people and their place in the Old Races." All the easy islander patois was gone from his speech, leaving it as formal and intense as any of his contemporaries as he brought his gaze to each of them in turn.

"We have broken a covenant. This I do not deny. We have survived by it. This, I put to you as a needful thing. We hold true to our old bloodlines; not one among us is called selkie if he cannot change his skin. Our children are no less than half-blooded-more than this and we lose the core of what we are. Many of us are more than that, bred back and kept close. You hold our fate in your hands." He took one easy, deep breath, then turned his palms up as he sat. "I ask you to vote now."

"By age," Janx said to Daisani, and for once respect threaded the dragon’s tenor voice. Daisani, to Margrit’s surprise, seemed to accept that respect with uncharacteristic humility, bowing his head to the dragonlord before bringing his attention to the vote. He echoed Kaimana’s gesture, turning a palm up to reveal a white stone. Janx, still more respectful and subdued than Margrit was accustomed to, echoed the gesture a third time, white stone held in his fingertips as he’d once held a priceless sapphire to tease Margrit with. Then both elders turned to Malik, expectation written on their faces.

Malik gave Kaimana a hard look of dislike. Kaimana’s gaze remained neutral, but he nodded, an action so slight Margrit thought it could simply have been the strain of holding too still. Malik held out a moment longer, then slapped his palm on the table, a violent act of rejection.

Janx glossed a smile at Margrit, pleased with himself, and nervousness swept her. Advocate or not, she found the idea of holding an entire race’s fate in her hands alarming. She looked back at Malik as he peeled his hand away to reveal his cast lot, then brought her attention to Biali. Thought caught up with vision an instant later and she jerked her eyes back to Malik.

A white stone lay before him on the table.

Janx inhaled, soft and sharp. Kaimana bowed toward Malik, a small gesture of thanks, and Biali grunted with surprise. Margrit’s heart fluttered, warning her that she needed to draw breath. Tense pleasure stretched Malik’s mouth, and for a long few seconds the quorum remained silent and still, absorbing the implications of his vote.

Biali scowled at the gathering, his gaze lingering most darkly on Margrit. Kaimana watched without change of stance or expression, but Margrit’s hands went cold with the certainty that while the selkie lord had known how Malik would vote, the gargoyle’s choice was unknown to him.

"No point in standing on shifting earth." Biali opened his hand with none of Malik’s dramatics, the white pebble pale against even his skin.

Margrit breathed a laugh, knowing she should keep the silent solemnity of the moment, but unable to resist looking at Janx as she unfolded her own fingers, stone gleaming white against her palm. "I wasn’t critical after all." The admission was a relief and a disappointment all at once, though relief won out as a shiver of portents swept her.

Janx ignored her, looking hard at Malik. "I wonder what the cost of that stone was."

"A peace accord," Kaimana answered. "That his people and mine will not stand in each other’s way. There’s room enough for all of us."

Biali growled, far more emotion than Alban would have allowed himself, and Janx leaned back in his seat, fingers templed in front of his mouth. Margrit dragged in a breath, her eyes drawn back to Malik. Only Daisani gave no outward sign of his reaction as he looked from djinn to selkie lord.

"That’s it, then." Biali broke the new silence, glowering around the table. "Exile’s lifted and time moves on. This quorum is-"

"Wait." Margrit’s voice quavered, but she stood, making herself as large as she could in the presence of so many inhumans. "There are other issues to be addressed."

Mouths pursed and eyebrows lifted as curious attention was turned her way. Even Malik looked toward her without overwhelming antagonism. "Unless you’ve stolen children like changelings," Margrit said to Kaimana, "there’s the issue of telling humans you exist."

She looked to the other four at the table, her confidence rising as she offered her argument. "This is a harder question, in its way, than whether to accept the selkies. Choosing to tell humans about yourselves is dangerous. A wrong choice could easily have disastrous consequences. But holding exile over someone’s head is too much, if you’re accepting the possibility of interbreeding. No one should make that kind of decision without their partner knowing the truth about them."

"Perhaps we should defer to those with experience in such situations," Daisani suggested, his tone all politeness, that belied a mocking glint in his eyes.