BY the time Lord Lalkmair had arrived, tea and food had also arrived, and Cilarnen's proclamation had been drafted and sent to be copied and distributed over the Arch-Mage's seal, though Lycaelon's secretary, Journeyman Nircan, had bleated and whimpered and had to be threatened severely before he would comply. The proclamation was simple and blunt, stating simply that the spells of the Mages of Armethalieh were fueled by the energy granted them by the people of Armethalieh, drawn from their bodies by the Tokens of Citizenship which every Citizen of Armethalieh wore.
"And henceforward they may choose to wear them or not," Idalia said firmly.
She knew this was what Cilarnen would have wanted. What the basis of the High Magick had to be in Armethalieh, from now on. Power participation in any spell of the High Magick must be a gift freely given, just as it was for the Wild Magic.
"Preposterous!" Nagid said, pounding his fist on the table.
"If they don't choose to wear them, they can leave," she said.
"Leave?" Ganaret said. "Where in the name of the Light will they go?"
"Anywhere they wish," Idalia said. "There is more to the world than just one city."
"Write it down as she wishes," Volpiril said, interrupting what promised to be another long drawn-out argument. The High Mages might despise women, but they seemed to be more than willing to argue with her. "There is reservoir enough at the Temple of the Light for a sennight at least. We must survive today before we worry about the future. Light knows, half of them won't see it and the other half won't believe it." He smiled wolfishly at Idalia. "And any who do will blame Lord Lycaelon for this decree, not me."
She smiled back. "And all of you will have a lot of explaining to do, when we win."
* * * * *
DYREN Lalkmair was the very image of a befuddled scholar-Mage, but even Idalia had heard of him, for he had been famous or infamous among the Mageborn in the City since long before she had been born. There was nothing he did not know about the history of the High Magick. Which meant, of course, that his studies had veered very close to the edges of the Proscribed Arts even at the best of times.
Frankly, considering the way things had been going in the City lately, she was surprised he was still alive.
He entered the room and stopped, staring at Jermayan.
"One of the Elvenborn," he said in disbelief. "Here?"
He looked at Idalia. "And Lord Lycaelon's Wildmage daughter?"
He regarded Lord Ganaret sternly. "And Lord Volpiril, sitting in conclave among you once more? You have much to explain, Lord Ganaret. For years you have forbidden me the slightest freedom in my studies, saying that such license would lead to unsoundness, chaos, and anarchy. And yet, I find that you have taken far more liberties than I would ever have considered."
"Perhaps you have noticed that the City is on the verge of being overwhelmed by Demons, and that there is a dragon sitting on the walls?" Lord Volpiril asked.
"No, no, I have no time for such things," Lord Lalkmair said. He stopped, seeming to suddenly take notice of what Volpiril had said. "Demons? A dragon? No, not possible. The Great Dragons were all killed in the Darkmage Wars. And the Demons were destroyed at that time as well."
"They're sitting right outside the walls," Idalia said. "Do you want to go look?"
"Certainly not, Lady Idalia," Lord Lalkmair told her acerbically. "It would undoubtedly all be Wildmage illusion."
"It is not Wildmage illusion," Jermayan said firmly. "Nor were They all destroyed. They have returned. They have kidnapped the Arch-Mage Lycaelon Tavadon to use as a sacrifice to summon He Who Is back into the world, and we must stop him."
"Well, that's very interesting. There must be an ancient Land-Shrine around here somewhere. I always thought there might be. But the Council would never approve my petition to go outside the walls to look for it." Lord Lalkmair didn't sound in the least worried by the possibility of the imminent destruction of the entire world.
At least Idalia now knew why Dyren Lalkmair was still alive. Anigrel hadn't bothered to kill him because the man never took his nose out of a book long enough to notice what was going on around him.
"Sit down, Lord Lalkmair," Volpiril said. "We must know all you know of Wildmagery, and how our Art began."
Lord Lalkmair seated himself, with some hesitation, at the ebony table. "If you wish to know such things, Lord Volpiril, why not ask the Elf? Or the Wildmage? By the Light, either of them know more than I and do not risk Banishment for speaking of them!"
There was a faint chuckle from a few of the High Mages seated around the table.
"We don't really have time for this," Idalia said. "Though we do need Lord Lalkmair's help. As Jermayan has said, They intend to sacrifice Lord Lycaelon at the Delfier Land-Shrine tonight at midnight. We must stop Them by taking Their sacrifice from Them before They can use it."
Volpiril frowned. "You cannot mean us to fight out way to the Shrine?"
Idalia shook her head. "If the entire Allied Army can't do it, Lord Volpiril, you certainly can't. I'm talking about magick. Pure High Magick. With some Wild Magic mixed in."
Lalkmair looked interested at last. "Certainly we have enough of Lord Lycaelon's personal items to create a Bond of Sympathy. The difficulty would be in raising enough Power to penetrate the Darkmage spells that will already have been cast. But adding the Forbidden Magic as well… that might very well disrupt the Etheric Currents to such an extent to allow a spell of lesser force to slip through the interstices in the Darkmage Working. It will still require an enormous amount of Power, but I believe it can be done. An adaptation, in a way, of an Apportation Spell oh, I know, Lord Volpiril, that such an adaptation requires months of review by the appropriate committee, but… "
"Just this once, Lord Lalkmair, we will bypass the review," Lord Volpiril said, with a long-suffering sigh. "Please determine precisely what items you will need for this spell, and what Mages you will require for the Circle, and assemble them here."
"I'll help him," Idalia said firmly. She was very much afraid that if Lord Lalkmair went wandering off, he'd become caught up in some obscure byway of research and forget to come back at all.
"Oh, please," said Lord Lorins ironically. "Do feel free to treat this City as your own."
"We shall," Jermayan said, getting to his feet and placing a hand on his sword. "Since we are saving it for you."
"And while we're gone," Idalia said, "it might be a nice idea to see if you can round up any of your precious Mages who might actually be willing to poke their noses outside the walls and fight for it, instead of leaving Kellen and your so-called 'Lesser Races' to do all the work."
* * * * *
CILARNEN had never thought even before his Banishment that he would ever be standing here, in the Grand Circle of the Council House, preparing to cast the most important and most sacred spell of the City.
Seventeen others stood with him, all men far older and he would once have thought wiser than he. All of them were of the highest rank of Magehood, High Mages all.
The last rank Cilarnen had formally attained was that of Entered Apprentice.
Yet he would be leading the ritual. He had claimed that right, and no one had argued.
It should have been Lord Kerwin's position of all the Mages gathered here, Lord Kerwin of House Festalen was the most senior Mage. Yet when Cilarnen had claimed the position of Keystone, Lord Kerwin had not said a word.
If Lord Kerwin had not been thoroughly cowed by Cilarnen's father, he was doing a good imitation.
Of course, the fact that the Council House was only a few yards from the Delfier Gate, and thatin the absence of the wards the sounds of the battle outside the walls were clearly audible inside the Council House might well have had something to do with it. Cilarnen had been in a few skirmishes, though not in a battle on this scale. And he'd seen more death and destruction than he really wanted to, through the Glyph of Far-Seeing. But for people like Lord Kerwin. the sounds he was hearing now were entirely new, and it was obvious that the venerable High Mage didn't care for what he was hearing at all.
Proper Mage-robes had been brought for Cilarnen to dress himself in they lacked the tabard that showed his house colors, rank, and magickal honors, but they would do and the Master Spellbook had been brought from the Council Archives, so he could read over a spell he had never expected to see, let alone cast.
It was long and complicated.
But he was a quick study. He'd had to learn to be.
And it wasn't as if he was going to be the only one casting this spell for the first time. Of the seventeen of them gathered here in the Council Chamber, only Lord Kerwin had ever participated in the Casting of the Wards before, and that only as a Journeyman, assisting the Mages. Until Anigrel had come to the Council, the High Council itself had re-cast the Wards each moonturn. Now, they dared not trust the work to any of those whom Anigrel had chosen to take their places.
There would be thirteen of them doing the actual Casting. The other five High Mages all would prompt them through the ritual, doing the work of Journeymen to keep the braziers stoked, and, if disaster struck and someone could not go on, hope to take his place in the Casting before the ritual unwound itself.
"You wear no City Talisman, Lord Cilarnen," Lord Kerwin said.