'Qui: The Fall of Ottawa' Chapter 8 pt 2

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"This is Wellington St., right?" Qui asked, changing the direction of conversation. He pointed through the windshield. "That's Parliament Hill."

Arundel nodded. "Elysium's on the other side of the road. The gorgeous old Victorian. Park outside the front door and the valet will take your car to the parking area."

"It's facing Parliament," Qui said. It was impossible to keep how impressed he was out of his voice. "It's not a concern to the Masquerade, being this close?"

"There's been a rather ferocious debate on that very topic," Arundel said as Qui pulled in by the side of the road. "Local Kindred purchased the building back in 1875 and we have a rather grand tradition, here. The Rideau Club is seen as sacred among our eldest. I, myself, have been attending for almost a century."

Qui stepped out and handed his keys to an overdressed valet. "I've never been a big fan of tradition when it stands in the way of my survival." He stepped up onto the curb while Arundel smoothed out his suit and adjusted his tie.

"My thoughts exactly," Arundel replied. "Which is why I'm one of the few members of the Court who spoke in favor of relocating when last we convened. Unfortunately, my voice was overruled."

"By Prince Jonah, I suspect," Qui said.

"None other."

Two attendants held the doors open as Qui accompanied Arundel inside. The 'club' was magnificently opulent by North American standards. Most Kindred Qui had worked for enjoyed a lower profile, and even the exceptions who lived in the lap of luxury rarely had this almost…old European level of decadence. Of course he had to admit that his experience was selective—his role as an assassin tended to put him in contact with fewer high-society types than he might otherwise have found himself rubbing shoulders with. 

He felt distinctly uncomfortable, but did his best not to show it. 

"Try to relax," Arundel whispered as he led Qui up a winding set of stairs to the second level. "The Prince will be expecting someone nervous and easy to manipulate. He's prepared for it and he'll do his best to throw you off your game. Project confidence and don't let him know that you're intimidated."

Qui ground his teeth as they walked on through the seemingly endless corridors. The building hadn't seemed this big from the outside. "I'm not intimidated," he said. "More appalled. Ottawa has been under nearly constant attacks by the Sabbat and this is how Jonah spends his time? Hiding behind riches while the hordes pick off his foot soldiers one by one?"

"Now you understand why Cranston needs to act," Arundel said.

"Yes," Qui found himself saying. It was so easy to talk to this man. Almost too easy. He wanted to tell him everything. "I…" He shook his head and stopped dead in the middle of the hallway as realization dawned. "Is this how you treat your allies?" he snapped. If he were mortal, his face would have been flush with fury. "I hoped for better from you!"

Arundel held his hands up. "A simple probe for truth, nothing more," he said. "It's the standard for new arrivals before speaking with the Prince. You're right about the Sabbat assaults—they've left Jonah paranoid. By his edict, I am required to search for ulterior motives whenever I escort Kindred into his presence."

"That doesn't excuse the invasion of my mind!" Qui considered leaving on the spot.

Arundel took a quick look around and lowered his voice. "If I wasn't on your side, I would have turned you away the second you suggested that Jonah should be replaced. I have no intention of spreading that information. I was required to perform a cursory examination and I did so. If I am questioned in relation to this, I now have plausible deniability."

He cut short as a trio of servants rounded the corner ahead, gossiping together until they realized who they were about to walk into. Each of them went pale and they gave Arundel a wide berth. Qui wondered if they knew what manner of creatures they were serving. Is that how Samantha would react to him if she knew the truth? 

"So who do you report your findings to?" Qui asked. He'd already picked out three separate methods of escape, although two of the three would be considered major Masquerade breaches. He didn't want to open that can of worms unless he absolutely had to. Existing in plain view of the mortals was one thing, but flaunting vampiric powers would bring supernatural Hunters down on the Court, and the penalty for doing so was final death.

The look Arundel gave him said he knew exactly what Qui was planning. "I'm under no obligation to inform the Prince of what I found," he said. "The purpose is to discover if you are fit for an audience." He grinned and spread his arms. "Congratulations. You passed the test."

"Trust is hard to win back," Qui said as he reluctantly allowed Arundel to lead him toward the main ballroom where he would meet with the Prince.

"Understandable," Arundel said. "I'd beg your forgiveness if I believed it would be forthcoming, but I recognize you as a man not easily won over. Believe it or not, I admire that trait considerably."

"Let's just get this over with," Qui said. His mood was thoroughly ruined and he couldn't help wondering how much of Arundel's friendship routine had been an act. It was impossible to trust another Kindred, of course, but an alliance wasn't always out of the question. He'd hoped that he'd found someone who he could rely on in the city—a co-conspirator to help him navigate this den of snakes. Then again, Arundel might still be telling the truth. If he was questioned about whether or not he had scanned Qui, he was now in the clear and able to answer the Malkavian Prince honestly. He'd performed his due diligence to the letter—he merely neglected to follow up on his findings.

Arundel beckoned him onward. "You're ready?" he asked.

"As I'll ever be," Qui said. He'd already decided to give Arundel a second chance. A part of him wondered if that was a bad sign, but he brushed the thought away. Like it or not, he needed allies. Making more enemies than strictly necessary was rarely the best move in unfamiliar territory.

The ballroom doors opened on their own, drifting on mystical tethers to reveal a brightly-lit cascade of finery. The space beyond was one of the gaudiest rooms Qui had ever seen. Hand-painted banisters framed a small staircase leading onto the ballroom floor; they were gilded, glittering in a warm light that showed from every angle. The floor itself was a dark-stained hardwood, polished to a mirror-like sheen. He felt like he was desecrating the place simply by walking through it as four towering alabaster statues positioned in the corners regarded him with haughty stares. A single chair was centered along the back wall, nestled between hanging banners of fine purple silk. It was all Qui could do to keep from rolling his eyes when he realized that the chair was a throne. An actual throne, upon which sat the Prince of Ottawa.

Jonah may have been several hundred years old, but he stared down at Qui with the eyes of a man in his twenties. His blond hair was slicked back and his legs were crossed at a severe angle, showing off exquisitely embroidered pants that probably cost more than any of the servants in his club made in a year.

"Greetings, James Coyle," Jonah said. His voice was deep and booming, supernaturally enhanced for effect. "Your reputation precedes you."