Chapter Eleven
As the trio of runners began a hasty descent down the rough terrain of the hillside (with Merit being carried by Gwineval), they heard the Creature’s wings beating behind them as its dark form took flight. Hemlock, Safreon and Gwineval looked over their shoulders as they scrambled down, making for the canopy of trees which lay several yards ahead, and which promised to provide some cover against an aerial attack by the Creature.
The Beast cried out as it perceived them, and with a few beats of its wings, crashed to the ground before the line of trees toward which the group had been running.
Gwineval dropped Merit and began to trace patterns in the air with his hands. Hemlock rushed toward the right side of the Creature with Safreon flanking her.
The Creature lumbered forward, brandishing dark claws and braying with a furious bird–like cry.
Suddenly the dark form of the monster was enclosed in a shimmering field of blue energy. Hemlock and Safreon halted their charge.
"Make for the tree line!" yelled Gwineval as he picked up Merit and resumed his dash, running toward the left side of the Creature and going around it.
As they passed, the Creature flailed against the blue energy field and the field crackled under the strain. Hemlock noted that parts of the Creature’s dark limbs seemed to disintegrate into small wisps as the limbs struck the barrier. These dark, insubstantial particles fluttered about before fading away. Looking back as she ran, Hemlock could see that the energy field had dimmed noticeably as the quartet reached the shelter of the trees and continued to run away.
"Can we fight it?" Hemlock asked between breaths as she vaulted a fallen tree.
"I don't know," replied Safreon.
"I think we'd be hard pressed," hissed Gwineval. "It appears to be almost purely magical – and it’s an unfamiliar magic."
Hemlock had a moment to reflect on her sensory impressions of the Creature as they ran. It seemed to her that Gwineval was correct. She had sensed a strong aura of magic emanating from it. The closest thing that she could compare it to was either the feeling that she had experienced on the dark stair leading to the atrium of the Wizard Tower, or perhaps the feeling of the magical Gate of Despair, but this was a wilder, more chaotic magic.
Her first instinct when faced with this Creature had been flight, and that was a very rare impulse for her.
After they had taken no more than a few score of strides into the woods, there came a great popping explosion from behind them and an enraged baying from the Creature.
"It’s free already! It must have great power!" noted Safreon. Gwineval hissed in assent.
They soon heard the great wings beating overhead.
"We should keep several yards between us as we run," yelled Safreon. They fanned out.
With a great tumult of falling branches, the Beast smashed through the tree canopy and crashed to the rocky floor of the forest nearest to Safreon, who was running between Hemlock and Gwineval. It didn't land directly in front of him, so Safreon darted to his right through the trees to avoid the Creature. Its bulk gave it trouble navigating through the intervening stumps, tree trunks and brush.
As the Creature lagged behind the four runners, it gave another cry and again took flight; ascending above the forest canopy.
The trio of runners and the frightened mechanical gnome frantically descended through the hillside forest toward the Tanna Varran town. The Creature continued to stalk them overhead, crashing through the trees when it spotted one of them. It had attacked more than ten times within just as many minutes and showed no signs of tiring. The trio were not faring as well however, as they were falling frequently during the headlong run and each of them had to spend a great deal of energy to evade the creature.
"We can’t keep this up forever," yelled Safreon twice, for he now had to yell to both sides so that both Gwineval and Hemlock could hear over the intervening distance between them.
"There was a cave – a few minutes ahead," yelled Gwineval in an odd hoarse hiss which was clearly audible to Hemlock, some fifty yards distant. "Shall we make for that?"
"We make for the cave ahead," agreed Safreon, repeating the same to Hemlock on his other side.
It didn't take them long to spot the cave. It had a large entrance and was visible from the slope above as a wide outcropping in the rock. It had a small tributary of water emerging from it, running down the hillside. Hemlock now remembered the cave’s wide but low entrance when they had encountered it during the climb. Fortunately, Gwineval had taken a moment to step inside during the earlier ascent, and had commented that he was able to tell by the scent of the air that it led to a deep network of caves.
Hemlock was the first to reach the mouth of the cave.
Just as she did so, the Creature, seeing the group through a break in the trees, descended with a cruel shriek, landing on the rocks atop the very entrance which the group now sought.
As Gwineval (who still carried Merit) and Safreon rounded the cave entrance behind Hemlock, the Creature shuddered and drew back for a moment.
All four of the group scattered as the Creature breathed a foul cloud of billowing darkness, which corrupted the spot where Hemlock had been standing with dark energy. The creature shrieked and roared again as the dark cloud dissipated.
Hemlock leapt to her right desperately, avoiding most of the blast. She breathed in some of the dark mist though, and her senses dimmed. The world seemed darker to her; her vision and hearing seemed distant and disconnected. Her nose, mouth and lungs burned.
The force of an explosion rocked her onto her back. The shock helped her regain some alertness.
She saw Safreon to her left, wheeling back to throw a glass vial of an explosive tincture.
Gwineval had apparently dropped Merit and was now flinging a scintillating ray from his hands, scorching the shadowy creature and causing it to cry out in pain.
"Miss Megan, can you get up?" Merit asked, appearing unexpectedly behind her.
"Merit, get back," replied Hemlock as she struggled to her feet. The diminutive automaton helped her up as much as it could.
"Don’t call me Megan, either. My real name is Hemlock," she continued through gritted teeth, as she vented some of her frustration at her seeming inability to combat this creature.
The Creature breathed again at Safreon and Gwineval, but they were lucky enough to escape the blast area.
Taking this as an opening, Hemlock bounded up the rocky outcropping unsteadily and lunged at the creature, her twin sabres slashing into its left flank. She watched as the sabres passed through the insubstantial creature without any apparent effect.
She jumped away then, catlike, as the creature swatted at her with its dark tail.
"Hemlock, enter the cave!" cried Gwineval.
"You can’t harm it!" added Safreon.
Both of her comrades had regained their footing.
Hemlock noted that Merit was still standing where she had left him. She dashed toward him and picked him up as a roar sounded behind her. She heard a crash that made the ground shudder as the Creature struck at her a moment after she moved away.
She felt the familiar crackle of magical energy as she ran hard with Merit in her arms. She saw that Gwineval cast another barrier spell.
Safreon and Gwineval were motioning to her and running toward the mouth of the cave. Above, the shadowy beast was again imprisoned in a blue magical field, but the field already appeared to be weakening.
They all had enough time, however, to sprint into the cave. They didn’t stop running for several minutes, led by a light which Safreon conjured from another potion vial that he carried.
Behind them, they heard the magical barrier shatter and then they heard the sounds of the renewed rage of the creature. It roared into the cave mouth and they heard it shower the entrance with its deadly breath weapon.
But the group had gone far enough into the cave to be unaffected. Feeling secure for the fi
rst time since encountering the creature, they halted in a small cavern.
…
Safreon had waited in the evening shadows until he had observed the wealthy Merchant entering his home. Safreon had been crouched in a deep, shadowy doorway in the elite district of the City. White washed walls adorned with hanging floral baskets had surrounded him.
Safreon, being a resident of the Warrens, was not permitted to enter the Elite district. He pondered this as he noted a pair of patrolmen making their way down the lane in which he crouched. The patrolmen wore chain armor, over which fine white robes were draped. They also wore polished iron helms which were topped with long white feathers. Safreon knew that their sight was enchanted to see emanations in a certain magical dimension. The robes of elite citizens had also been enchanted so that they emanated a visible aura to the patrolmen. Any intruders would be easily detected by the absence of this aura.
He had enchanted himself by using the Wand of the Imperator to bind a concealment magic to himself. This would prevent his visual detection, provided that he could remain relatively hidden from sight.
Safreon knew that if his mission in the Elite district was successful, that he would soon wear one of those enchanted robes himself.
He had embarked on his mission because he decided that he needed to attend a meeting of the City Senate, which was scheduled to meet a few hours past sunrise on the following morning. The Wizard Guild was scheduled to address the Senate in order to present a status report. Safreon felt that he needed to observe how the Senate and the Wizard Guild were interacting. He planned to be there to witness it firsthand.
As the patrolmen moved down the lane and past his position, Safreon was relieved. He felt fairly certain that his enchanted concealment had been effective, but if those patrolmen had been bound for the door where he was currently crouched, he judged that he certainly would have been detected.
His thoughts then turned back to the Merchant that he was targeting. Safreon knew that this man lived alone. As a prominent business owner, the Merchant was entitled to attend Senate meetings as an observer, but Safreon had asked around and had learned that the Merchant had never shown an inclination to attend. It had seemed to Safreon that this man was a perfect target for his plan, which was to take one of the man's robes and also to magically bind the illusion of the man's appearance to his own form.
Safreon had decided to wait until the late evening when he hoped that the Merchant would be asleep. Safreon had watched the man’s habits for several nights, and knew that, given the hour, the Merchant had likely retired to bed.
He darted from his position in the doorway to another doorway farther up the road, in the direction that the watchmen had traveled. He then skirted a corner to his right and grasped onto a drainage pipe. The pipe ran all the way up to the roof of the three story stone building that contained the apartment of his target.
He scaled the pipe with some effort and emerged onto the roof of the building. The view of the Elite district at night never failed to impress him. The neat, whitewashed buildings stretched in every direction, dotted at regular intervals with radiant lanterns. Different neighborhoods had different floral themes, so each block was accented with a splash of unique color. Though the buildings shared a white washed appearance, their styles did vary. Some were fronted by stately columns which rose several stories to angular roofs. Others featured a series of elegant dormers extending up multiple stories. Everything was white, clean and orderly. This was quite a contrast to his home, and seemed completely incongruous with the wretched conditions in the Warren’s worst districts.
Safreon, in recent years, had become increasingly conscious of the political landscape in the City. Within the past year, he had detected a growing rift between the Elites and the Wizard Guild. The disagreement seemed to be centered around the use of magical spells by people who were not members of the Wizard Guild. The Wizard Guild had recently reclassified a number of types of magic from the unregulated class of "lesser magic," to the regulated class of "greater magic." This had met with some grumbling from the Elites, some of whom were accomplished magic users, but did not want the reclusive life of a guild wizard.
He was primarily concerned with the welfare of the Warrens. Few in the Warrens practiced the spells that were reclassified as greater magic by the Guild, with the exception of himself. The newly restricted spell types included divination and illusion. The Elites were now required to purchase potions from the Wizard Guild in order to achieve these widely used spell effects. Safreon was concerned that that could increase the price for the lesser potions, which were in widespread use in the Warrens.
Safreon, who had moved into position on the roof near the Merchant’s apartment, saw lights flicker and dim through a glass skylight that he knew was above the bedroom of his target. He had been on this roof for several nights over the past few weeks watching the patterns of the merchant and his neighbors. He knew that the Merchant would next take to his bed, which was very close to the skylight. Safreon was sure that the skylight was magically warded, so he had brought along some potions that he had distilled with a purpose of dispelling the magical wards.
He had taken great pains to conceal his magical activities from the Wizard Guild. The wizards had frequently swept neighborhoods in an attempt to detect unauthorized magic use. Safreon had grown skilled at using the powerful artifact which he possessed, the Wand of the Imperator, to conceal his magical and alchemical activities. So far it had been successful. The same dweomer which he was currently using to conceal his physical presence also had the property of dampening the emission of magical energies. Despite these protections, he was still worried that some Wizard Guild agents might happen to be scanning in the Merchant's neighborhood that night. He was on edge because of that constant danger.
He drew a piece of charcoal from his pocket and began to sketch out a pattern of glyphs around the Merchant’s skylight. Once he had done this, and after a check of his surroundings, he drew out a potion from his cloak, uncorked it, and skillfully poured a black liquid along the lines of a graceful curve which he had drawn at intervals around the window. There was a fetid odor in the air from the liquid, and the glyph pattern that he had drawn slowly began to glow and pulsate.
Safreon was able to perceive the flow of magical energy from the skylight into the glyph that he had drawn, because the brightness of the glyph increased. After a minute or two, the glyph seemed to be glowing steadily and had not increased in brilliance any further. Satisfied that the magical wards were neutralized, Safreon moved toward the skylight and threw a handful of sand from the rooftop over the glyph. As the sand fell, the energy from the glyph dissipated with a soft crackling sound.
This was the riskiest part of the operation for Safreon. If the Merchant or a neighbor heard those crackling noises, he would be compromised. As it was, however, the Merchant did not seem to stir, and Safreon was able to cast a minor spell to unlatch the window from the inside, as he watched the Merchant, seemingly sound in sleep, below.
Once this was complete, Safreon gently opened the skylight and cast a minor sleep spell on the Merchant. Safreon knew that this spell would keep the Merchant asleep all evening and well into the next morning, so he didn't have to worry about the risk of being in the same place with the unsuspecting man, should he, if left awake, uncharacteristically decide to attend the impending Senate meeting.
Safreon tied a rope to a nearby chimney and lowered himself into the Merchant’s apartment. It was finely furnished with a dramatic interior that opened up onto a three story foyer.
He looked at the sleeping Merchant.
Something stirred inside him in that moment; something that had lain dormant for many months. His posture changed gradually: his back straightened and his jaw thrust upward. Safreon had a vision of himself assuming this man's identity permanently. Certainly, there would be social and magical challenges to be faced while posing
as the Merchant, but Safreon knew that he was cunning enough to pull off the deception. Safreon reflected on his years of self-sacrifice and service to the City. Had it been enough? Could he set aside the vow of service that he had made many years ago, a vow made in repentance for what he had considered to be a mortal sin?
Safreon recoiled from these surprising feelings. It wasn't that he was surprised at having the feelings, it was just that they always seemed to wash over him without any forewarning.
He thought about what he had done prior to making his vow, and the self-loathing that he felt in reaction to his memories quickly overpowered his selfish feelings. His shoulders slumped and drooped forward subtly. Safreon knew that he had passed the test. He knew that he would remain Safreon: rogue, outlaw wizard, and crusader for the Warrens.
Safreon located the Merchant's linen closet. The Merchant was a rich man and there were at least forty fine robes in the closet. Safreon took one, folded it, and placed it under his cloak. He then went to the bedside and rolled the sleeping Merchant onto his back.
Studying the man's features, Safreon took a small vial from his pocket and drank it as he placed one hand on the man's face. Safreon experienced a wracking pain and then he gasped and almost dropped to his knees; he was restrained from falling to the floor in agony only by his knowledge of the spell's need for him to maintain contact with the Merchant's face.
Soon the pain subsided and Safreon walked to a dressing table to behold his image in the mirror. It was quite different than it had been moments before.
Satisfied with the success of the transformation, Safreon began to inspect the Merchant’s dressing table.
He didn't see any gold in evidence, and he didn't care to look for it, being fairly well supplied in that department of late.
His mission complete, Safreon climbed up the rope, closed the skylight and latched it magically from without. He then obscured the charcoal glyph with some kicks with his boots, and then made for street level and the safety of the Warrens. He intended to return to the Elite district at first light wearing the robes that he had taken, and fully in the guise of the slumbering Merchant.
…
The morning after Safreon’s transformation, the wizard Gwineval (who had not yet met Safreon and had known nothing of the latter’s recent actions) was marching in an earnest procession. Gwineval was participating in a ritual that the wizards observed of marching in unison to their monthly meeting with the Senate. Gwineval privately thought that the tradition was a bit overblown. Still, he was forced to concede to himself that there was a certain spectacle to the proceedings.
The wizards all strode along a gently winding thoroughfare which surrounded Hemisphere Lake. The lake lay at the center of the City. Gwineval always wondered about the shape of the Lake, from which it took its name. He knew that Hemisphere Lake was fed by a small river which flowed out of the mountains in the east. Nobody was exactly sure where that water flowed from, given the unique geography of the lands that surrounded the City.
As he marched, Gwineval looked at the Lake’s shoreline beside him, which was roughly rounded on the eastern side that bordered the Elite district. He then gazed across the Lake to the western shore, which looked uncannily straight, as if it had been enthralled by the looming shape of the Wizard Tower, which could be seen rising above it.
The wizards continued to walk a southerly course around the eastern side of the lake until the winding thoroughfare met a straight road which ran directly east and into the heart of the Elite district. The procession then turned and advanced down the straight road toward the Senate building, which was visible some distance ahead of the wizards.
Gwineval always dreaded these meetings with the Senate. He had no taste for political intrigue, but his status as the leader of the Fifth Circle of wizards made his participation in these meetings mandatory.
Gwineval was an uncomfortable participant in the silent marching. His mind began to wander, and he reflected on his surroundings.
He took note of the ornate olive robes worn by the seven council wizards that he marched amongst. His eye then moved to the ring of red robed, First Circle combat wizards that surrounded and escorted the olive robed council wizards.
Gwineval looked ahead of him then and studied the gait of Falignus, who had then only been appointed as the head of the Seventh Circle of wizards in the year prior. Gwineval thought that in that one year’s time, Falignus was already overconfident. In fact, Gwineval had already considered him overconfident when he had just been the upstart young leader of the Fourth Circle of wizards. Falignus was bordering on recklessness since he had taken on his new role.
Falignus had recently taken to wearing a bright red vestment over his ceremonial olive wizard cloak. This represented more than a fashion choice, Gwineval noted disapprovingly, as it was a sign of leadership in the new Crimson Order, which Falignus had started as a way for wizards outside of the Seventh Circle to learn more about Seventh Circle magic. Gwineval had concluded that the Crimson Order represented a dangerous parallel power structure within the Wizard Guild, because it was a group that only answered to Falignus. The Wizard Council had objected to its formation, but had not had the resolve to vigorously oppose it.
Gwineval's gaze then moved to one of the First Circle wizards who marched nearby, his tattooed and muscular arms protruding from beneath his boldly colored red robes. Gwineval noted despondently that he and the entire group of First Circle guard wizards had abandoned their traditional brown robes for the new red robes, which signified their membership in the Crimson order. Falignus' martial message of Wizard Guild dominance had appealed immediately to the combat oriented First Circle wizards. They had joined his group quickly and almost to a man.
Gwineval then glanced behind him at Malvert, the bald, scarred leader of the First Circle of wizards and the only council member besides Falignus to openly wear the crimson vestment. Although only Malvert wore the vestment, Gwineval knew that several of the other council wizards were also Crimson Order sympathizers.
He then looked to his right at Arcos, Falignus’ handpicked successor to the position of head of the Fourth Circle of wizards–a position which Falignus had occupied prior to his promotion to the head of the Seventh Circle. Gwineval judged that this younger wizard was clearly under the influence of Falignus.
The wizard Jalis shuffled along in the procession, walking to Gwineval’s left. Gwineval knew Jalis as the bookish leader of the Second Circle of wizards. Gwineval thought that the portly man walked awkwardly, yet somehow his gait still communicated confidence. Jalis, Gwineval reflected, thought that he could gain in prestige and power by playing both sides against one another in the power struggle that was churning inside the Guild. Gwineval believed that Jalis’ ambitions were greater than his abilities, however, and that Falignus had already seen him as a self–serving liability. Jalis had become a man that nobody trusted. Gwineval felt that Jalis was going to lose out no matter which side won the battle for dominance within the Wizard Guild.
Behind Jalis walked Colberth, the leader of the Sixth Circle of wizards. Gwineval knew him as a meticulous and exacting man, favoring order in all things. Gwineval was almost certain that he had fallen under the influence of Falignus, whose message of absolute order no doubt resonated with Colberth’s sensibilities.
Gwineval glanced to his left then and met eyes with Miara, leader of the Third Circle of wizards. In her eyes, he perceived what he believed was his only true ally. As she smiled and looked away, Gwineval thought that she personified everything that the wizards could represent in the City: the qualities of benevolence, liberty and personal responsibility. Gwineval knew that Miara already looked toward him for leadership, even though he had only recently become a council member and leader of the Fifth Circle. Gwineval was the only wizard who had openly challenged Falignus and his ideology of absolute control over the City.
So while Gwineval dreaded these
Senate meetings, and beyond that political matters in general, he suddenly found himself thrust into the role of the opposition leader, confronting the Crimson Order movement. It certainly was not a role that he savored, but he had chosen to reluctantly accept it. There simply was no one else to do it.
The group of wizards continued to walk proudly down the main street of the Elite district. The ivory colored stone of the district shone brilliantly in the morning light and the colorful flowers dazzled. White robed men and women walked unhurriedly in the street, and stared at the wizards and gave them a wide berth. Other people in the gray robes that denoted non-citizens, moved more hurriedly, and some of them tended to the many floral arrangements that adorned the buildings. Others worked merchant carts that sold food and other goods, or led horse drawn carts filled with goods. These people didn't even dare to look at the wizards, who proceeded in their ceremonial splendor.
Soon the procession reached the gates of a huge building with a gently angled, overhanging roof which rose to meet at an apex, and which was supported by a series of beautifully beveled columns as thick as an old growth tree, which rose, in grandeur, to a height of several stories.
As the procession of wizards halted, the ornate gates of the Senate building opened slowly, and out strode an older man, wiry and taciturn, who bowed to the wizards.
"Greetings. Please enter," the man stated simply, but with stately delicacy, as he retreated into the shadows of the building, arms outstretched and facing the wizards.
The wizards, who were familiar with the building and the proceedings, filed into the great hall of the Senate, and took their appointed seats, flanked by their First Circle wizard escort.
The Senate hall had been built as an amphitheater, with seating that rose in curved steps around the floor. The many Senators sat in near full attendance and gazed impassively at the wizards. Above the Senators, in high balconies, many other Elite citizens stood and watched the proceedings from afar.
Gwineval found that his eyes were drawn to the balconies for some reason. He felt slightly uneasy but dismissed the sensation, as the old man who had greeted them, Samberlin, first seat of the Senate, addressed the assembled wizards.
"Wizard Council, the Senate greets you," Samberlin began, his slight build spry and demonstrating a fitness that defied the tale of the passage of years told by his grizzled face. "We welcome you and your report for this day, the twelfth day of the fourth month of the four hundred and first year of our reckoning. Let the report commence."
After that final remark, Samberlin took a prominent seat amongst the assembled Senators.
Falignus rose and began to speak.
"Greetings to all of you, Senators and Citizens. I am pleased to report that the Wizard Guild remains strong and steadfast in its role as the manager and distributor of magic," Falignus began confidently. Gwineval noticed how Falignus moved back and forth in front of the seated Senators, and made eye contact with many of them.
"During the preceding three month period, I am pleased to report that we were able to increase Oberon production to one hundred tons, which was reduced to approximately twelve thousand five hundred gallons of liquid. Of this amount, approximately nine thousand gallons was consumed by the emanation of mana energy from our main tower and other smaller Wizard Guild towers located throughout the city."
"We used another one thousand gallons of Oberon distillate for potion production. Of our total production, approximately thirty percent was healing potions, another thirty percent was enhancement potions, twenty five percent was illusion potions, and ten percent was divination potions. Of the potions produced, one hundred and two percent were purchased, slightly reducing our potion inventory for the period. We plan to address this issue in the following months by increasing potion production. As you know, the past months were the first period in which illusion and divination magic were reclassified as greater magic, and the sales of these potions increased by approximately one hundred and forty percent each. We believe that our City of San Cyra is now a safer place due to these new regulations," Falignus continued. At this last remark, many of the Senators muttered darkly amongst themselves. Falignus appeared to note this, but continued unabated.
"Our new Oberon harvesters were field tested last month and seem to be working well. One was attacked by a group of dark spirits during a harvest, and we were able to repel the attack without casualties. We believe that the harvesters will enable us to dramatically increase Oberon production in the future, if necessary."
Falignus presented other statistics to the Senate and received a neutral response at best and muttering opposition at worst. Still, he had not shown any reaction to the mutterings. He completed his speech and then sat down in his chair.
Gwineval saw that Samberlin was having discussions with some Senators seated beside him. The elder Senator then rose to address the Senate and the assembled wizards. Gwineval noted that Samberlin appeared somewhat discomfited as he began to speak.
"The Senate thanks the wizards for their report. The statistics seem acceptable for the most part. I fear, however, that we must bring up a matter of some…sensitivity. It seems that a Citizen of our district was recently apprehended by the wizards in a rather public and heavy handed fashion. This has created some outrage amongst the Citizens. This man’s name is Poyer."
Gwineval, who was familiar with the case of citizen Poyer, glanced at Falignus in order to gauge his reaction to Samberlin’s comments. Gwineval quickly saw the annoyance on Falignus’ face, albeit just barely, but doubted that any of the Senators were able to detect it. Gwineval knew that Falignus was very good at maintaining his composure, though Gwineval also knew that Falignus often reached a breaking point at which his explosive temper took over. Gwineval was hopeful that Falignus would stay in control of himself even in an unusual situation like this, with the Senate questioning a Wizard Guild action directly.
Samberlin continued his address: "Poyer came to the City some ten years ago. Although he arrived without any items of value, he was able to establish proof his considerable talents during his month of trial, and was accepted as a full citizen of the City. As you may be aware, he has great talent with food and may be the finest chef that the City has ever seen."
"The recent policy change regarding the usage of illusion magic was difficult for Poyer. He was an accomplished Mage in his original lands, and relied on the illusion magic to enhance his culinary creations. He feared for his profits due to the high requirements for magic in his recipes, so he apparently kept using his own spells even after the ban went into effect."
"We do not dispute the problem with what Poyer has done, but we ask for clemency on his behalf. He is a valued and loved citizen–and a productive one. We do not doubt that he can be reformed and that we will be able to persuade him to see the error of his ways."
Suddenly Falignus burst from his chair and lightning shot from his fingertips. The lightning bolts struck an ornate statue of an old and honored Senator, which was mounted regally, high on the walls of the Senate chamber, just below the balconies. The energy bolt struck home and sheared the statue’s stately stone head right off. The head then fell heavily into the Senators below and it was only through great providence and some quick reactions that none were hurt by the fall of the great piece of stone.
"THIS IS NOT ACCEPTABLE!" Falignus cried, his face reddened and saliva spitting from his mouth as he screamed.
"YOU WILL NOT QUESTION OUR POLICIES ON MAGIC!" he cried again.
Samberlin looked surprised, but held his ground before the raging Wizard.
"The laws that govern our two bodies are clear," Falignus continued loudly, but in a voice that sounded somewhat more composed to Gwineval.
"The Senate holds sway in matters of governance of the City insofar as it does not involve the matter of magic, which is the sole jurisdiction of the Wizard Guild," Falignus continued.
"When you question these fundamental agre
ements between us, you jeopardize the order that we have established in the governance of this City."
"The matter of the former citizen Poyer is not one for Senate consideration. This meeting is over."
Falignus looked over the body of assembled Senators. The room was completely silent.
Gwineval had watched the spectacle that had unfolded before him with a detached point of view. On one hand, he agreed with Falignus, since it was well known that the Senate harbored wizards that operated outside of the Wizard Guild’s rules. Clearly, Poyer had been one of these, had been careless and had gotten caught by the Wizard Guild. On the other hand, Gwineval thought that Falignus should have handled the matter more judiciously. Gwineval believed, along with most Guild wizards, that the Senate existed only at the whim of the wizards, because it had been convenient to have them be the public face of government in the City. It was doubtful that the Senate could ever seriously oppose the Wizard Guild. Gwineval knew that the last time that happened, the result had been the Night of Ninety-Nine Tears: a lesson that Gwineval felt that the Senate would not soon forget. Still, he reflected, generations came and went, and experiences faded into tales and stories. Some foolish citizens had even recently questioned the veracity of the tale of the Night of Ninety-Nine Tears openly. Gwineval hoped that the Senate wouldn’t be so foolish as to openly oppose the Wizard Guild again, but felt certain that if they did, the result would be similar to their last attempt.
The wizards gathered behind Falignus and strode from the Senate hall. As they left, Gwineval noted that there were knight guards in full plate mail armor stationed at the doors. Some of them even leered at the wizards through their helmets, although the icy demeanor of Falignus and the First Circle wizard guards seemed to quell their stares somewhat. Fortunately, in Gwineval’s reckoning, the wizards exited the Senate chamber without further incident.
After the wizards walked several blocks back toward Hemisphere Lake, Gwineval surged forward to walk abreast with Falignus.
"Do you think that display was wise?" he asked skeptically.
Falignus shrugged and replied: "Would you rather we had a little hysterics in the Senate or a full replay of the Night of Ninety-Nine Tears?"
Gwineval felt Malvert’s presence closer behind him and saw an urge for restraint in Miara’s eyes, as she also stood behind Falignus.
"You have a point," Gwineval admitted, "but I still think the matter could have been handled a little more delicately. You’ve made an enemy of Samberlin now."
"Perhaps," Falignus conceded, as dark locks of hair fell down over his noble features. "But I know how Samberlin seeks and wields power. He’ll use this conflict to solidify his power in the Senate and then I’ll use him as a single point of control soon thereafter. You think me some headstrong boy, Gwineval, but I always plan my actions," Falignus had a hint of mockery in his voice.
"That was no planned outburst, Falignus. You surely plan wisely to account for your temper, but don’t think that I don’t see the truth of the matter," Gwineval replied angrily.
Gwineval took his leave of the group. He had been tasked with making a stop at a local Wizard building in the south part of the Elite district, and wanted to get it over with.
After he announced his intentions, Miara cautioned him.
"Gwineval, take a guard with you. The events in the Senate meeting may cause a stir in the district," she recommended, her salt and pepper colored hair blowing over her face in the midday wind. Gwineval noted that her features were still appealing, even though she was well into middle age.
"She’s right, Gwineval, it would be prudent," the wizard Jalis stated.
Falignus nodded in agreement as well.
"No, I think not. The Citizens will not strike out at us this day. I will go about my duties normally," he stated and walked off, pausing only to cast a reassuring look at Miara, who shook her head in return, in a gesture of mild reproach.
…
Safreon watched the wizard called Gwineval leave the group of wizards and begin to walk south into the Elite district.
"Perfect," he thought to himself.
Safreon had been in the balconies during the Senate meeting. In fact, he had been uncomfortably close to the damage caused by the lightning bolt that Falignus had thrown.
The proceedings had taken quite a surprising turn for Safreon when Samberlin had brought up the matter of Citizen Poyer. But Safreon had been more surprised at the reaction of this wizard Gwineval, which he had observed from his balcony vantage point.
Safreon had been studying the council wizards carefully during the meeting, looking for any hint of a potentially sympathetic ear to his cause. He had been looking for a point of contact that he could establish within the Wizard Guild.
He had initially dismissed Gwineval because of his unusual appearance.
But Safreon had not found any overtly encouraging signs in any of the other wizards. He had thought that he had seen a trace of distaste pass over the features of the only female member of the Wizard Council during Falignus’ outburst. But he had not felt sure enough in his observation to take a risk with her.
But then his gaze had fallen back on Gwineval. And Safreon had seen the unmistakable look of distaste pass over the lizard features of the wizard. Safreon had been so surprised that he hadn’t trusted his first impression, but Falignus had continued to rage, and Safreon had seen the look of distaste on Gwineval’s visage a second time.
That evidence had been enough for Safreon. He had judged that this was a risk that he had to take. He decided to make contact with Gwineval at his first opportunity, since he had felt uneasy about the boldness of this new wizard leader known as Falignus.
Safreon marveled that an opportunity had presented itself so quickly.
He hoped that the emergence of the opportunity represented synchronicity and was not the result of his misread of a situation that might be too good to be true. He watched for any escort that might accompany Gwineval as he split off from the group of wizards. But none of the red robed guards had followed.
Safreon shadowed Gwineval as he walked, and continued to look for escorts following Gwineval at a distance. Again he was reassured to see that no guards followed.
Ascertaining Gwineval’s probable destination in the smallish Wizard building which lay only a few blocks ahead, Safreon strode up beside the wizard, who moved briskly.
"Pardon me, sir, may I speak with you for a moment?" Safreon asked.
"You may," Gwineval responded, but did not stop or turn toward Safreon.
"Could you stop for a moment, sir? I will only take a moment of your time," Safreon asked again, not wanting to be in the visual range of the small wizard building during this conversation, for fear that someone might observe their interaction.
"Fine, what is it?" Gwineval asked, turning toward Safreon with a look of annoyance.
Safreon hoped all that Gwineval perceived was a nondescript citizen looking back at him, and not a rogue wizard under a spell to alter his appearance.
"I was at the Senate meeting just now, and I saw what happened," Safreon began.
Gwineval looked at Safreon from head to toe, mildly perturbed.
"Is it fair to say, sir, that some within the Wizard Guild do not favor the policies of Falignus?" Safreon asked.
Safreon saw the effect of that question immediately take hold, as Gwineval stopped looking inquisitive and his features displayed open disdain at the content of the question.
"Whether that is or isn’t so is not a matter of your concern," Gwineval stated dismissively and began walking again.
"Oh, you’re wrong in that regard," Safreon said, and jogged for a moment until he reached a position walking abreast of Gwineval, "it’s a matter of principal concern to me… and to the Warrens."
Gwineval stopped again and had turned to Safreon. "The Warrens? And why would you have any concern for the Warrens, Citizen?" he asked skeptically.
"Speak to me for a few moments and I’ll tell you," Safreon replied.