"Aphrodite's_Flame_053" - читать интересную книгу автора (Kenner _Julie_-_[Protector_04]_-_Aphrodite's_Flame_(V1.0)_[lit](multi-file html))

Chapter Fifty

He’d won. Finally, he’d won, and it was worth the wait. The years of torment. The agony of defeat at his own sons’ hands. But he’d finally won. And, oh, what a victory it was.
Hieronymous took his seat at the head of the negotiation table on Olympus. He smiled at the members of the Inner Circle, at the Protectors who were on the renegotiation committee, and at those ridiculous mortals who’d come planning to dictate terms of a new treaty. No. That wouldn’t be happening. Not today.
He’d made sure that every place setting had a mind-control pen. That was probably overkill. There were sufficient numbers in the room without every individual having one, and already the chamber was filled with the silent hum of mind control. Unfortunately, the devices didn’t work on mortals. That was okay, though. They’d be witnesses soon enough to their own fate.
“Shall we begin?” he asked.
Bilius nodded. “Of course.”
“Shouldn’t we wait for Zephron?” one of the mortal plebes said.
“Yes,” said another. “Where is the High Elder?”
“Apparently I am the High Elder today,” Hieronymous said. “Zephron was unavoidably detained.” He allowed the slightest of smiles to touch his lips, remembering with extreme pleasure the surprise on Zephron’s face when the stealth mosquito—quickly and capably engineered to Hieronymous’s specific specifications by his underlings—had attacked and taken out the elder with a hefty dose of sleeping potion.
Now the elder was in the farthest catacombs, and there he would remain. It was safe to say that Zephron would be there for eternity.
What a lovely thought.
“And now, to get down to business.” He picked up the itinerary that some flunkie had prepared, flipped through it, then tossed it behind him. It hit the wall just as the mouths around the table dropped open. “New plan,” he said. “Mortals are out. Protectors are in.” He took a deep breath and spread his arms wide. “Ah, but it felt good to say that.”
“What the—”
“You can’t—”
“Are you mad?”
“We came here in good faith! These negotiations must—”
He held up a hand, and the sputtering stopped. “I believe I’m in charge here.”
“No.” A familiar, authoritative voice echoed from the doorway. “Actually, I’m in charge. And we’ll be signing the treaty as it was negotiated.”
Zephron!?

Chapter Fifty

He’d won. Finally, he’d won, and it was worth the wait. The years of torment. The agony of defeat at his own sons’ hands. But he’d finally won. And, oh, what a victory it was.
Hieronymous took his seat at the head of the negotiation table on Olympus. He smiled at the members of the Inner Circle, at the Protectors who were on the renegotiation committee, and at those ridiculous mortals who’d come planning to dictate terms of a new treaty. No. That wouldn’t be happening. Not today.
He’d made sure that every place setting had a mind-control pen. That was probably overkill. There were sufficient numbers in the room without every individual having one, and already the chamber was filled with the silent hum of mind control. Unfortunately, the devices didn’t work on mortals. That was okay, though. They’d be witnesses soon enough to their own fate.
“Shall we begin?” he asked.
Bilius nodded. “Of course.”
“Shouldn’t we wait for Zephron?” one of the mortal plebes said.
“Yes,” said another. “Where is the High Elder?”
“Apparently I am the High Elder today,” Hieronymous said. “Zephron was unavoidably detained.” He allowed the slightest of smiles to touch his lips, remembering with extreme pleasure the surprise on Zephron’s face when the stealth mosquito—quickly and capably engineered to Hieronymous’s specific specifications by his underlings—had attacked and taken out the elder with a hefty dose of sleeping potion.
Now the elder was in the farthest catacombs, and there he would remain. It was safe to say that Zephron would be there for eternity.
What a lovely thought.
“And now, to get down to business.” He picked up the itinerary that some flunkie had prepared, flipped through it, then tossed it behind him. It hit the wall just as the mouths around the table dropped open. “New plan,” he said. “Mortals are out. Protectors are in.” He took a deep breath and spread his arms wide. “Ah, but it felt good to say that.”
“What the—”
“You can’t—”
“Are you mad?”
“We came here in good faith! These negotiations must—”
He held up a hand, and the sputtering stopped. “I believe I’m in charge here.”
“No.” A familiar, authoritative voice echoed from the doorway. “Actually, I’m in charge. And we’ll be signing the treaty as it was negotiated.”
Zephron!?