The room erupted in comments and chatter. Several members voiced the opinion that it was too soon to be coming to any sort of vote on any issue, while others suggested the young magician overstepped his bounds. The Chairman stood and held up his hands for silence. He was a portly magician from one of the Eastern Kingdoms, by the name of Eslon Makov; he possessed a sense of gravitas well suited to moments like these. He said, A question has been put to the vote of the members. To restate the question-
Pug let the restatement fade into the background as he saw the young, brown-robed magician move in his direction, climbing the steps of the circular hall to where he sat. A moment, if you dont mind, he said.
Pug nodded and rose to follow the young magician up a few steps to the top tier of the Academys main hall, then out of the door to the antechamber.
The young magician said, I am called Ruffio, Pug. Ive not had the honour of meeting you before.
Pug smiled. I appreciate your support in there.
The young man shrugged and smiled hesitantly and Pug was suddenly struck by Ruffios resemblance to himself at a much younger age. He had a thick shock of dark hair and a similar build and carriage. It was an obvious point to make, I thought. And if dire events do transpire as you fear, it might make it easier for this august body to reach a conclusion and act before we all die of old age.
Pug laughed as they walked past a pair of older magicians who cast them a quick glance and continued on their own way.
Pug and Ruffio exited the antechamber and walked down a wide set of steps to a walled garden. When they were alone, Ruffio said, I think if there are members of some unknown agency embedded here, theyve blended in successfully. For a week now Ive reviewed every discussion Ive been involved in, overheard, heard of, and Im forced to admit nothing. He looked Pug in the eye. It may be that the very nature of this society of magicians is exactly what our opponents desire: a tendency to wish to do nothing.
Pug nodded. We have traitors in the Conclave, Ruffio. Otherwise how could so many things have gone so dreadfully wrong in the last few years?
The younger magician nodded, remembering the assaults on Sorcerers Isle that should never have succeeded, the worst of which had cost Pug the lives of many, including his wife and son. Still, that doesnt mean theyve infiltrated here. He looked unhappy. We should return. The vote on the motion should begin soon.
Thank you for putting it forward.
A necessary step. The young magician was thoughtful as they reached the entrance to the meeting hall. The Academy lacks the exceptional talents of the Conclave, but we have many powerful men and women in our ranks. If the need arises there are enough of us in the uncommitted faction to force through a vote to help. He smiled. Even the most conservative member of the Hands wont oppose preventing the world from ending. His smile broadened. At least I dont think they would.
Pug stood alone for a moment and said quietly, I hope youre right, but sometimes I wonder.
CHAPTER SEVEN
The warning bells sounded.
Martin was already out of his bed and dressed and on his way to the kitchen for breakfast. Buckling his sword belt around his waist, he met his brother coming out of the kitchen.
Damn, said the commander of the city. Im famished.
Brendan smiled. Just ate! If you dont get yourself killed, have them fetch you something. Playfully smacking his brothers stomach with the back of his left hand, he added, Besides, the last weeks quiet is making you fat. Before Martin could respond, Brendan was off at a run towards the wall.
Martin indulged in a momentary expression of exasperation that went unnoticed by anyone, then set off after his brother. Brendan was at the top of the wall by the time Martin got there. He pointed out into the harbour.
What is it? asked Martin.
I have no idea.
In the centre of the harbour the water was roiling, bubbling and capped with foam, as if the water below was beginning to boil.
Martin shouted up to the northern tower, What do you see?
From above the reply came, Just a lot of dirty water bubbling, sir. Its been that way for a good five or more minutes.
What could it be? asked Martin quietly, turning back to watch.
After another few minutes Lady Bethany and Lily appeared, both sporting what Martin had come to think of as their fighting togs: leather breeches, woollen shirts, and leather vests and boots. Both carried bows, though Bethany was the only true archer. She had been giving Lily lessons with the bow and the girl was now able to draw and loose a shaft, though Brendan whod watched closely since hed taken an interest in the girl didnt think she stood much chance of hitting anything save by chance, as he had confided in his brother. And since Brendan was probably the only archer who exceeded Bethanys skills in the city, Martin took his judgment at face value.
What could it be? asked Martin quietly, turning back to watch.
After another few minutes Lady Bethany and Lily appeared, both sporting what Martin had come to think of as their fighting togs: leather breeches, woollen shirts, and leather vests and boots. Both carried bows, though Bethany was the only true archer. She had been giving Lily lessons with the bow and the girl was now able to draw and loose a shaft, though Brendan whod watched closely since hed taken an interest in the girl didnt think she stood much chance of hitting anything save by chance, as he had confided in his brother. And since Brendan was probably the only archer who exceeded Bethanys skills in the city, Martin took his judgment at face value.
Brendans close attention of Bethany had caused a great deal of agitation in young Captain George Bolton, now third-in-command of the city, who obviously had a deep infatuation with the mayors daughter. Brendans interest was more passing, given the lack of attractive young women in the city to compete with Lily; almost all the rest had been sent north to Zun for safety. She had refused to travel north and stayed in the city with her father, as he felt obliged to stay and defend his city.
Bethany looked excited as she asked, What is it, Martin?
Ill tell you when I know, he snapped.
Her eyes widened; then she realized the strain was finally taking its toll on him.
Martin called up to the lookout above, What do you see?
The same, sir. Just bubbles and silt.
Should we send someone out to investigate? asked Brendan.
Martin was silent for a moment, then said, No, we wait.
Wait for what? asked his brother.
Your guess is as good as mine, Martin replied.
The four figures at the corner table were quiet, and while the room had cycled from an almost-sullen silence to a near riot of noise and back again over the previous day, these four were unnaturally silent.
Arkan had found little to divert his attention since reaching Ylith, so he spent his time studying the customers in the inn, jammed cheek-to-jowl as they were before him. It was a little like hunting, thought the moredhel chieftain, sitting in a hide observing the game through the swaying trees.
There were no rooms for rent, and every available floor space from the basement to the attic was occupied by exhausted workers and stranded travellers. So Miranda, Nakor, Calis, and Arkan had been content to stay at their table, occasionally leaving to use the public jakes out back.
Arkan and Calis were of elf stock, so silence was not difficult for either. The two demons in human form reflected the nature of their human identities, Mirandas moods being manifold. Nakor was by nature ebullient, but he could also embrace solitude and quietude, so idle conversation had withered hours before.
Now all four of them sat and covertly studied the other four men. They were rather ordinary looking, apart from the unnatural silence they observed. Had they been monks of some contemplative order, they couldnt have been less talkative. Still, that wasnt the only thing about them that caught the attention of Calis and the others.
The Prince of Elvandar had lived among humans more than the other three, even though the two demons possessed Miranda and Nakors memories. All questions about how the two supposedly dead friends had reappeared in Ylith had been deflected, and Calis had dropped his inquiry, assuming he would learn the truth in good time. Like his mothers people, he had greater patience than humans.
It had been Arkan who had first noticed the four quiet men. He had simply said, Theres something off about those four. He indicated the four men at the table in the corner on the other side of the rear door.
Off odd, or off dangerous? asked Calis, taking an interest.
Im not sure, which probably means dangerous, said the moredhel chieftain. They are trying to appear to be strangers, sitting at the same table by happenstance, yet despite the differences in their attire, each sports the same fashion of hair, as if they are members of the same clan.
Nakor grinned. Monks, perhaps?
Not likely, said Miranda.
No visible weapons, so they are either harmless or have other means to protect themselves, continued Arkan. Magic would be my best guess, as there are no obvious guards nearby.
Agree, said Calis, glancing at Miranda. Anything?
Miranda knew what the elf prince was asking, but she hadnt told him yet that she wasnt who he remembered and lacked the original Mirandas ability to detect magic. She glanced over at the men and said only, Nothing useful. She felt a familiar, distant sensation being near these four men, like almost remembering a name, or trying to place a faint aroma, maddeningly familiar but just beyond recall.
Nakor grinned. I could go and poke at them.
I dont think that is wise, said Miranda.
Why? asked little man.
I think theyre waiting for something. It might prove futile to do anything until that moment arrives. Her tone and expression communicated to Nakor that she was on the verge of recognition. He turned his head slowly and studied the four men, then his eyes widened slightly. He turned back and nodded almost imperceptibly. He now felt it too.
It might be too late, suggested Arkan. I have spent little time among humans, save when trading in Raglam or Caern, but I have fought them and dealt with human prisoners. He lowered his voice. These have the look of prisoners condemned to the mines.
Not hopeless, said Nakor. Resigned to their fate.
They expect to die, said Calis. Here, in this inn?
I dont think so, offered Miranda. How much mischief can they start here?
A nice brawl? asked Nakor with an evil glint in his eye.
As amusing as that might prove to be, said Calis, Miranda is right. If those four are up to something, its not here. At some point I expect one or more to leave the inn.