Caellach Gwain, I will see to it that no one else will cosset you from this moment on. You will find your own food or starve, clean your own clothing or go dirty, cut your own firewood or freeze. Sooner or later, you'll figure out how to live like a responsible adult, and high time, too."
And with that, she turned on her heel and stalked off, pushing her way through the surrounding crowd of mingled young and old wizards.
Someone grabbed her elbow; she started to pull away blindly, when she realized it was Lorryn. "Don't run off," he muttered. "Not now. This isn't over yet." He turned her back to face the crowd.
"I've heard the mutters and the complaints," he said loudly. "I've heard them from the moment that I arrived here. I couldn't help but notice that most of them came from the same set of mouths—so let's just address this situation once and for all. I'm calling a convocation of all Wizards."
"Here?" someone gasped. "Now?"
"Here and now," Lorryn agreed. "I give you all a quarter-candle to get everyone assembled; whoever isn't here by then I'll assume has no interest in the way things are run in the New Citadel, and doesn't feel the need to have his voice heard."
About half of those present shot or lumbered off in every direction to gather friends and enemies from every part of the Citadel. Shana looked askance at Lorryn.
"Is this a good idea?" she asked doubtfully.
"It had to happen sometime soon," Lorryn replied. "Better that it comes as a surprise to both sides; Caellach and his cronies won't have a chance to prepare themselves."
"And we're prepared?" she replied, staring at him incredulously.
"More than they are—and what's the besetting sin of every one of the Whiners?" he asked, and answered himself triumphantly. "Laziness! That's why I only gave them a quarter-candle. How many will think it's too much trouble to drag themselves away from whatever they'd planned or were in the middle of?"
"Maybe enough to make a real difference," she said slowly—
for already the young wizards were coming up to the clearing at the entrance, brought in by the youngsters who had scattered like quail to bring the message to everyone within reach of a pair of fleet feet.
With the help of a couple of their friends, Lorryn prepared the area. This was also the spot where firewood was chopped and stored, and the young wizards got to work, rolling in some logs for the less-than-healthy to sit on down in front, and setting up sawn sections of trunk for himself, Shana, and presumably Caellach to stand on so everyone could see them. Caellach, of course, merely stood about and observed them sourly. More and more people were arriving with every passing moment, and by the time the allotted span was gone, the only Wizards not present were a scant handful of the oldest or laziest. The biggest surprise was the number of pure humans who had come as well; virtually every full human in the Citadel.
With a great deal of overacted infirmity, Caellach bullied a couple of human youngsters into helping him up onto one trunk-section, as Shana and Lorryn took the other two.
"Now, settle down!" Lorryn shouted, very loudly, so that those who were chattering and milling about obediently stopped talking aloud and turned their attention to where the three of them stood. "All right, then. I am going to moderate this convocation since I'm the one who called it."
"But you're Shana's lover!" Caellach sputtered, red-faced.
Shana was going to protest, but Lorryn beat her to it. The furious look that Lorryn turned on him sent him from red to white, and he even shrank back a little. No one had ever seen Lorryn angry before—and he looked positively murderous.
"I am not," he replied into the silence, "Lashana's lover. We are friends, and she has been relying upon my experience on my father's estate to help her handle you unruly lot. Even if that were true, it would have nothing to do with this situation and it would be none of your business so long as her foster mother approves. I am offended, Caellach Gwain. I do suggest that you confine your words to the issues at hand, or I will be tempted to challenge you."
Challenge him? What on earth does he mean by that? Shana
thought, bewildered. Caellach Gwain evidently knew, though, for he turned even whiter, and stammered an apology.
"The primary issue at hand," Lorryn said, when the old wizard was done, "is a greater one than just the presence of iron within the Citadel, or the number of people who are attending to tasks other than ... housekeeping." His bland expression gave no hint as to his own feelings on the subject, and although they were no secret to Shana, from the looks on the faces of Caellach's cronies, they were not sure if he was Shana's partisan or not. He might be courting her, but he was also an aristocrat, used to the attentions of hundreds of slaves, so shouldn't he be on their side? For that matter, he might only be using her to get the power of leadership himself—she saw that in the new speculation with which Caellach regarded him.
"Caellach Gwain," Lorryn continued, turning to the old wizard, "you have voiced your opinions often enough for the ears of your friends and supporters—I must insist that you allow everyone in the Citadel to hear them."
Caellach stared at him; tried without success to stare him down. His expression remained inscrutable. "As moderator, I will not be questioning either of you. Instead, you will answer questions from everyone except me. I will see to it that there are no interruptions and that you both have a fair chance to be heard."
What? That took Shana completely by surprise, and she felt seriously shaken. What on earth was he after? Surely the Old Whiners would try to make her look a fool—
But it was too late to back out now, for either of them, as Lorryn fielded those who wanted a chance and selected one of Caellach's cronies for the first question.
"You were the one that brought the Elvenlords down on us in the first place, girl, so what've you got to say for yourself?" shouted the old man, who practically trembled with eagerness to finally have a chance to confront her in front of witnesses. "If it hadn't been for you and your pretensions of being some mythical Elvenbane, we'd still all be back in the Citadel and comfortable!"
Think! Don't react, think! "I never called myself the Elven-
bane," she retorted, throttling down panic and irritation that mingled uncomfortably, setting her insides topsy-turvy. "I never even heard of the Elvenbane until after I was brought to the Citadel. And besides, it was the dragons that made the Elvenbane up in the first place, not me!" She caught sight of Father Dragon back in the crowd, in his halfblood-shape. "Right, Kalamadea?"
Gazes followed hers, and several of the more wary, elderly wizards who found the dragons as uncanny as Caellach did cleared away from him. Father Dragon cleared his throat modestly. "Well, it was mostly my doing," he admitted. "But yes. We dragons created the legend of the Elvenbane, and we were just as surprised as the rest of you when the legend came to life." He warmed to his subject. "We believe, we dragonkin, that certain creatures are endowed at birth with great hamen-leai, which is the power to become Fate rather than to be steered by it, and I tell you all now, Lashana, even as an infant, showed such tremendous hamenleai that even if she had been raised by alicorns in the wilderness, the legend would have fitted itself around her. Every dragon acknowledges that now, whether or not they count her as a friend. Where she walks, great change will follow."
That was not what Shana had hoped he would say—nothing like it, in fact—but she gamely took up where she had left off. "As for all of you still being in the Citadel, I don't think you would have lasted undetected for much longer. You were taking too many risks. Someone would have found out why goods and supplies were vanishing and where they were going, if nothing else. The Elvenlords were already starting to wonder about that even before I joined you."
"Didn't I say that was too risky?" said a wizened old scrap of a wizard, before he was hushed. Lorryn had already signaled someone else to ask a question, and Shana felt her heart sink as she surveyed the faces around her. She had felt, and sounded, weak and uncertain. She hadn't convinced anyone, and Father Dragon hadn't helped.
"What makes you think you're better than any of the rest of us at leading?" shouted someone from the back. "Both of you!"
"I don't," Shana replied promptly, but Caellach was already swelling with self-importance and ran right over the top of her.
"I have decades of experience, not to mention intelligence and wisdom," he boasted, "which is far more than this impudent little girl can claim. I do not make impetuous decisions, and I do not rush to embrace something just because it is novel and new. There is no doubt in my mind that the situation here is well on the way to becoming intolerable, between these foolish innovations in magic and dangerous liaisons with barbaric wild humans, not to mention creatures that aren't even human. The young should serve their elders, not dictate absurd rules to them! They should be thrilled to trade their service for the wisdom that we have gathered!" He warmed to his subject, surrounded as he was by his own nodding supporters, paying no attention at all to the expressions of some of those who were farthest away. "What should we Wizards have to do with humans, anyway—except in that they, too, should be eager to serve us! We are more powerful, we are longer-lived and have the opportunity to garner far more experience than what can be learned in the few years these mayfly humans enjoy. It is clear that we are far superior in every way—and this girl, this child, thinks that we are to treat them as equals! Never! I will never tolerate treating such debased creatures, creatures who should be competing in devotion to me, as my equals!"
An actual growl arose from the humans who made up the bulk of the crowd—perhaps few of them had ever realized just how deeply Caellach's prejudices went, nor how poisonous they were. At that moment Shana realized Lorryn's tactics in allowing this convocation to take place in the way it had, for he had permitted Caellach full freedom to say whatever he chose with his followers around him, and the old wizard's mouth had run away with him.
"Debased creatures, are we?" came an angry shout from one of the carters who had brought the last batch of iron ingots up from the mine. "I'd like to see you try your hand at a little honest work, you soft white worm!"
"You can just fetch and carry for yourself from now on!" came another, disgusted voice, along with a chorus of similar
sentiments. Even some of the children that Caellach had cowed into obeying his demands took heart from the sentiments of their elders, and added their shrill voices to the rest.
Caellach and the others woke to their danger, but considerably too late for any retraction. They gathered in a knot around Caellach and it became painfully clear to them how tiny a minority they formed, as a sea of angry faces surrounded them. Shana and her shortcomings were quite forgotten.
Lorryn allowed them enough time to really begin to frighten Caellach, before using a little touch of magic to amplify his voice so that it carried over the noise of what was fast becoming a mob.
"Friends!" he boomed. "Quiet! Please!"
Surprise silenced all the voices for the moment—just long enough for one single voice, the voice of her foster mother Alara, to be heard.