He swept the sword back through the North Gate, linking them all. The four Seals burned in the air.
Now the Great Seal to link them all and set the spell. Without it, all that had come before was useless. He stepped back to his first position. He was cold.
He raised the sword in salute. Suddenly it was a dragging weight in his hands, where moments before it had been light. He could barely lift it.
He gritted his teeth, and flung it up into the first line of the Great Seal.
Blinding white light followed the tip of the sword, cascaded back down the length of the blade, over his hands. It should have been hot, but it was cold, cold, it seemed to be draining all his strength.
He would finish this. He must.
The Great Seal was the most complicated of all. He worked quickly, desperately, forcing the sword through the complicated arcs. Smaller and smaller, and each loop and whorl must be exact, just as Master Tocsel had taught him.
He was hot. He was cold. He could not tell which. The smooth marble floor beneath his feet had become a thousand knives, and his sweat had turned to blood. He could taste it. Each beat of his heart was slower.
One… more…
He raised the Sword of the City in the final salute. All five Seals vanished.
The spell was cast.
He… felt… the Wards reform. He felt the City awaken, the spell that rendered it, in some sense, a living thing remade at last. Felt it reach out, eagerly, for the power he had promised it, the power it needed to do its work.
And then Cilarnen Volpiril knew nothing more.
* * * * *
THE fighting had been going on for hours. The sun was setting. The Allies were holding their own, though their losses had been heavy. It was a consolation that the Enemy's losses seemed to match theirs.
No more Deathwings prowled the sky, and they hadn't seen either a Coldwarg or a Shadewalker in hours. The Frost Giants had tried a flanking attack, but had been stopped by Belepheriel's Knights. The Elven Commander had fought them all the way to the water's edge; many of Belepherial's command would have their names entered in the Great Book at the House of Sword and Shield for their work this day. But Belepheriel still lived, and the Frost Giants had been stopped.
And the High Mages of Armethalieh had joined the fight.
Not many. Kellen didn't think the City had many to spate. But the Lesser Gate had opened, and ten young men in gray robes with ill-fitting breastplates over them had come riding out toward the army.
They'd looked terrified.
Dionan had brought them to Kellen.
"I You You're Kellen Tavadon," their leader said.
"Yes. You?"
"Geont Pentres. Of House Pentres. I "
"Do you know any spells?"
Pentres looked affronted. "Of course I do! I am a Journeyman Mage!"
"Will you work with Wildmages?"
From the look on his face, Kellen might have been asking him if he'd work with Demons, but he nodded, swallowing hard. "Yes. We all will. That's why we came."
"Good. Dionan. Find the Wildmages and take these to them. Tell them we have High Mages now and have them tell them what to do."
* * * * *
VOLPIRIL had said there were riots going on in the City, but Idalia saw no sign of them as she and Jermayan followed Lord Lalkmair back to his house. The Mage Quarter looked very much as she remembered it from her girlhood; a series of nearly-identical imposing (pretentious) mansions set widely apart. Except for a few servants here and there, the streets were deserted.
It might have been any ordinary day in Armethalieh.
"They seem to be exceptionally calm," Jermayan commented.
"Exceptionally stupid," Idalia said waspishly. "Until one of Them is actually here in person, I doubt most of them will either know or care what is going on outside the walls." She sighed bitterly.
"Yet Lord Volpiril seems to be… helpful," Jermayan said cautiously.
"That's a little odd, I'll admit. I think partly he's out for revenge on the rest of the Council and Lycaelon for what they did to him. Not that I'm complaining, since it works to our advantage right now. But the moment we don't have a common enemy, we'd better watch our backs."
"May that day come swiftly," Jermayan said.
"Yes," Idalia agreed, realizing what she'd said. "I hope, for all our sakes, that it does."
It was about half an hour's walk two chimes, by City reckoning to Lord Lalkmair's mansion, and Idalia supposed they were being watched from every house they passed. But the City Watch didn't come into the Mage Quarter unless it was specifically summoned, nor did the Militia, and today both bodies had plenty to occupy them elsewhere.
The Magewardens might have been a problem: From what Idalia knew of them, they went everywhere and did pretty much as they pleased. But they were unlikely to ignore a summons from the Arch-Mage himself, and Volpiril had taken the precaution of ordering all the Magewardens brought to the Council House, by a decree sent out over Lycaelon's personal seal. She didn't know how many of them there were, but six High Mages ought to be able to keep them in line, and she knew from her own youthful experience that there were prison cells beneath the Council House. They might all be there already.
If so, good.
They stopped on the paving in front of Lord Lalkmair's mansion. Like most of the High Mage's houses, the front doors were flanked by a pair of stone statues; in this case, a pair of large marble eagles, each holding a torch in one uplifted claw.
"Perhaps I should go first," Lord Lalkmair said, nodding toward the eagles. "They are bespelled, you know, to attack strangers. I am not sure they would harm the Elf Jermayan, did you say? Such a foreign name but they would not like a Wildmage at all. No, indeed. However did you come to find the Forbidden Books, Lady Idalia? You must tell me."
Idalia sighed. "There will be time for study later, Lord Lalkmair after we have the spell and have cast it. And I do not believe your guardians will be bothering anyone today."
She strode up the walkway and tapped one of the eagles on the chest.
It didn't stir.
"How odd," Lord Lalkmair said, following her and peering over her shoulder. "Yes, indeed, you are quite right. The spell has been completely distempered. Most peculiar. I should have noticed myself. Thank you, dear child. Pray, come inside."
The three of them entered the house.
Chapter Eighteen
The Light at the Heart of the Mountain