"You can't do that!" Dyvel gasped in shock.
"Is Lord Anigrel here to stop me? Is the Arch-Mage?" Geont demanded. "No. They were both carried off this morning by monsters. And even if House Volpiril is a forcing-house of treason, I for one would like to know what Lord Cilarnen is doing here with his Magegift intact, and strong enough to hold off the six of us. He was only an Entered Apprentice when he was Banished."
Dyvel bowed and retreated.
"And the rest of you," Geont said. "I am certain you have somewhere else to be. Go there. Lord Cilarnen has given me his word that he comes in peace."
The other four Magewardens didn't look very much as if they liked being dismissed, but they went.
"Now, Lord Cilarnen, if you would dismiss your Mage-Shield, it would ease my mind very much," Geont said. "I sweat by the Light I will attempt no spells against you. I do not think I could prevail, in any event."
The purple glow of Mage-Shield shimmered and died.
"And now?" Idalia asked.
Geont ignored her. Cilarnen sighed. "Do, please, Geont, answer the Lady Idalia's question, in the name of the Light and the peace between us."
"We must await Dyvel's return. The High Council is in sealed conference. There is much to do. If you wish a fair hearing, you must wait to be summoned."
"There certainly is much to do, since the City Wards have been brought down," Idalia said tartly.
Geont opened his mouth to deliver a stinging rebuke.
"Geont," Cilarnen said quickly. "Our other friends what happened to them? Jorade Isas? Kermis Lalkmair? Margon Ogregance? Tiedor Rolfort? Do you know?"
Geont looked at him. "They are not my friends. I do not know them. One hears gossip, of course. Rolfort is a Commons name. Of him I know nothing. But there was some scandal with the Lalkmair heir some moonturns ago. His father stripped him of his Gift, and he killed himself soon after. Young Ogregance is apprenticed to his father; he was supposed to test for advancement in the fall, but did not. I see Jorade Isas at the Golden Bells now and then, but I swear to you, we do not know each other."
Cilarnen bowed his head. "Thank you, Geont. You have told me what I wished to know. If not what I wished to hear."
Dyvel returned a moment later, almost running. "They will see them!"
"Come with me," Geont said.
* * * * *
THE three of them stood in the center of the black and white marble floor of the Council Chamber, staring up at the black marble bench at the High Council.
Only five seats were filled now: Lorins, Ganaret, Nagid, Dagan, and Harith.
The High Mages had suffered a series of nasty shocks today, starting with the kidnapping of their Arch-Mage, and continuing with the "attack" on their city by a large black dragon and Cilarnen's unicorn-cast spell. Yet they merely looked cross and bored.
"Well?" Ganaret demanded.
"We have come to tell you how to save yourselves," Cilarnen said. "And to save Lord Lycaelon, too. And to tell you of a plot that has been brewing here in the City for many moonturns, though it is not the one you believe."
"Will you speak of this under Truthspell, boy?" Nagid demanded.
"You will address me properly, by my rank and House," Cilarnen said evenly. "I was Banished unjustly, for crimes I did not commit, and so I claim all that was taken from me."
"You committed treason, as I recall," Harith said.
"At Anigrel's instigation," Cilarnen said. "Yet I believe the charge for which I was Banished was Wildmagery, and I am no Wildmage. Now and always, my devotion is to the High Magick, and my loyalty is to the Golden City."
* * * * *
IDALIA ground her teeth in frustration, listening to Cilarnen's calm demand for an empty title. Yet she knew it was necessary. If he could not get the High Council to treat him all of them with respect, they would not listen. And if they would not listen to them…
None of this would work.
She needed their help.
The time was drawing near to pay her final Price.
All the time they had been riding toward Armethalieh, she had felt it, without understanding quite what it was she was feeling. And then when the Demons had taken Lycaelon everything had become completely clear in her mind, just as it always did for a Wildmage at the moment when Mageprice came due.
Paying this one was just going to be a little more complicated than most. And require a lot more outside help.
* * * * *
"IT is true," Ganaret said. "Lord Cilarnen is no Wildmage. Nor, apparently, is he without the Magegift that should have been Burned from his mind at his Banishing. How can this be?"
"Cast your Truthspell and ask me," Cilarnen said, smiling calmly.
A Journeyman Mage was summoned to the Council Chamber, and the spell was cast.
Cilarnen spoke then, carefully, persuasively. Of the days of famine in Armethalieh. Of the cabal he had formed. Of "Master Raellan" Anigrel in disguise who had brought them all together and set their feet on the path to treason, carefully shaping their plans and causing them to do things they would not otherwise have done.
Anigrel, who had been supposed to Burn the Magegift from his mind on the eve of his Banishment, and who had not.
He spoke at length of Anigrel, whom the Allies knew to be a pawn of the Demons. How Anigrel had lied to the High Council, telling them that the Elves and the Wildmages were attempting to destroy them, when it had been Anigrel and the Demons all along. Of how the Demons had raided the villages in the Delfier Valley, slaughtering both the farmers and the Militia and Mages sent to save them. He had seen Their attack on Nerendale himself: As a witness, under Truthspell, his testimony constituted proof under the Law of the City.
He spoke of how the Elves and their ancient Allies had been fighting against Them to save them all.
"And now tonight the Demon Queen will sacrifice the Arch-Mage to bring He Who Is back into the world, if we cannot stop him," Cilarnen said, finishing his explanation at last. "To do this, you must help them the Elves, the Wildmages just as your ancestors did a thousand years ago. You must do this in the name of the Eternal Light."
"This cannot be true," Harith said in a shaking voice.
"My son does not lie."
"Father!"
Setarion Volpiril stood in the doorway of the Council Chamber, wearing the gray robes and rank tabard of a High Mage of the Golden City.
"Lord Volpiril, you should not be here," Lord Ganaret said quietly. "You have given your oath."
"'I shall work no treason against the High Council, against the City… or against the Arch-Mage,'" Volpiril agreed, quoting the oath he had been forced to swear, his deep voice resonant and steady. "Yet tell me, Lord Ganaret, how is it treason to come here and tell you what you all know: that my son speaks the truth?"