“You think this is about a magely council he can head? Or maybe a special position for him with the Council, like mage assistant to Councilor Jhaldrak?”
“Your guess is as good as mine.” Meldryn stood and stretched. “We should get ready.”
Before long, after Beltur hurriedly cleaned up the kitchen, the two were walking south on the cleared part of Bakers Lane. They arrived at the Council building at a quint before sixth glass, just as the sun was dropping behind the trees beyond the snow-covered marshes on the west side of the river and casting a pale pinkish glow.
Once he made his way to the conference room, Beltur surveyed the mages standing there talking. The table had been moved against the wall and several lines of chairs set up, but no one was sitting. He didn’t see either Cohndar or Waensyn, but he immediately recognized Lhadoraak, who was conversing with a stocky brown-haired mage Beltur had seen before at the meeting where Veroyt had briefed the blacks on their duties and assignments in defending Elparta. He also recognized Osarus, the City Patrol Mage, and Caradyn, the mage Osarus was conversing with, largely because of Caradyn’s silver-streaked black hair.
Beltur turned to Meldryn. “Who is Lhadoraak talking to? I don’t think I’ve met him.”
“That’s Mharkyn.”
“Is this all the blacks in Elparta?” That wasn’t quite what Beltur was thinking, since he’d counted all the mages present, including himself, and come up with fifteen. That didn’t include Cohndar and Waensyn, who hadn’t appeared, but what struck him was that out of that group, he only knew of five who had actually faced the Gallosian forces and mages. There might have been one or two others, but he doubted that there had been more than that. Felsyn, of course, had wanted to, but he’d been too old, and there was one mage besides Athaal who had been killed in battle, but Beltur had never known his name.
“I don’t know of any others, except Cohndar or Waensyn.”
“Why aren’t they here?”
“As senior mage in Elparta, Cohndar will be the last to arrive. Presumably, as his assistant, Waensyn will accompany him.”
Within moments of Meldryn’s words, a side door to the conference room opened, and three men walked in—Cohndar, Waensyn, and Veroyt.
“If you all would be seated…” offered Veroyt pleasantly, standing in front of the table and facing the chairs.
Cohndar took a position to the right of Veroyt, while Waensyn stood at the end of the table, conveying the impression that he was just an assistant. Meldryn and Beltur took the two chairs in the second row at the left end. With Beltur on the end, Lhadoraak eased into the seat beside Meldryn, with Mharkyn beside him.
Once everyone was seated, Veroyt cleared his throat and surveyed the group before speaking. “Thank you all for coming. I asked Senior Mage Cohndar to ask all of you to be here because a recent action by the Traders’ Council of Spidlar will affect you. The Traders’ Council has reviewed the events surrounding the recent attempted attack on Elparta by the Prefect of Gallos. Given the contribution that the blacks have made in helping repel the invaders, the Council has decided that it would be in the interests of both the Traders’ Council and the black mages of Spidlar that an official local council of mages be established in each of the major cities of Spidlar. The head of each council will report on a regular basis to the Traders’ Council. Furthermore, while it is up to the black mages of each city to determine the mage-councilor from each city, until such councils are formally organized, the senior mage in each city will act as the mage-councilor.” Veroyt paused and again studied the assembled mages.
While Beltur was slightly surprised, he had the sense that most of the other blacks were not and that to them the announcement was merely a formality.
Veroyt cleared his throat and continued. “Senior Mage Cohndar, to his credit, felt that it would be best if you all selected the mage who would represent you as soon as possible, and that is the purpose of this meeting. Because this is a matter for mages, and not for a representative of the Traders’ Council, at this point, I am leaving, and will turn the meeting over to Senior Mage Cohndar.”
Beltur had never heard the Council referred to as the “Traders’ Council” so many times in such a short amount of time. Is that Veroyt’s way of suggesting that the Council wasn’t about to get involved in selecting the mage representatives? Or something else?
Cohndar turned to Veroyt. “We all thank you, Representative Veroyt, for setting up this meeting and for informing us of the Council’s decision.”
“It was my duty and pleasure,” replied Veroyt, inclining his head to Cohndar and then walking toward the side door.
Beltur doubted that Veroyt was that pleased, although the councilor’s representative had spoken evenly and warmly.
Cohndar did not speak until the door closed. Even then, he waited several moments. “We have not seen the last of the Prefect of Gallos. While the invasion failed, we all know that, without your efforts, it would have succeeded. One of the reasons it almost succeeded was that the Council and the High Command did not use black mages in the most effective manner possible, nor did the senior officers understand how blacks can be best used. We lost three good mages as a result. If it had not been for the heroic efforts of several others, including Waensyn here, the results might have been far different. This was one of several reasons why Councilor Jhaldrak and I persuaded the Traders’ Council to formalize the position and to create a structured organization of blacks in Spidlar. The last thing any of us should want is for blacks to be taken for granted either by the Council or by individual traders.” The white-haired mage paused, just for a moment. “The next step is to select our councilor—”
“Cohndar should be the councilor,” declared a black whom Beltur did not recognize.
“Cohndar!” insisted Caradyn.
“Cohndar…”
Waensyn stepped forward, smiling, motioning for quiet. “Every single known black in Elparta is gathered in this room. If a majority of you wish Cohndar to continue as our representative, then you can so decide. If not, then you can choose someone else. But … from what I see, it might simply be best for those of you who wish that Cohndar remain as our representative to indicate that by raising your hand.”
Immediately, two-thirds of the mages raised their hands.
As Meldryn raised his hand, slightly later than the others, he murmured to Beltur, “Raise your hand. Quickly.”
Beltur did so, noting that both Lhadoraak and Mharkyn had not raised their hands until Meldryn had done so.
“It appears that you all want Cohndar to continue,” said Waensyn, who then inclined his head to the older mage. “You are now the Mage-Councilor of Elparta.”
“Thank you,” replied Cohndar, turning back to face the still-seated mages. “We face many challenges, not the least of which will likely be the hostility of the Prefect of Gallos. To meet those challenges, we need to become stronger. We need to become more disciplined, and we always need to be on our guard against those who would weaken us. I had not anticipated that any mage would have received such a unanimous selection, let alone me, but I will do my poor best to justify your choice. In the eightdays ahead, I will try to meet with each of you to learn from you your thoughts and hopes for blacks in Spidlar.” He paused. “Thank you … again.”
While Cohndar had shielded himself fully during the entire meeting, Beltur had sensed, if barely and faintly, a certain amount of chaos when Cohndar had said he had not anticipated a unanimous choice. While Beltur hadn’t immediately grasped the reasons for Meldryn’s quick instructions to raise his hand, the result and Cohndar’s smooth acceptance of the position of mage-councilor had been explanation enough.
Waensyn stepped forward once more. “Given the weather, it’s best we don’t tarry here, but thank you all for coming.”
“As I said,” added Cohndar, “you’ll be seeing me.”
After the seated mages all rose, Meldryn stepped forward to a sandy-haired black who had been sitting in front
of him. “Jhosak, it’s been a while.”
“Meldryn … I didn’t … I was so sorry to hear about Athaal.”
“Thank you. Like the others who suffered or died, he was doing his best to keep the Prefect from driving us out of Spidlar.”
“That he was.”
“Have you met Beltur? He and Athaal were the ones who saved Lhadoraak.”
“Oh, I haven’t had the pleasure.”
Beltur smiled pleasantly. “Jhosak, is it? I’m pleased to meet you.”
“You’re the other one who escaped the Prefect, right?”
“I’m afraid so. Waensyn was able to leave in a more leisurely fashion. I had to flee in a hurry. The Prefect’s mages were looking for my head, as well as the rest of me.”
“I didn’t realize that. You’re fortunate to be here.” Jhosak turned back to Meldryn. “You must excuse me.” With a thin smile, he nodded and turned.
“Caradyn,” said Meldryn as he stepped forward and put a powerful hand on the other mage’s shoulder. “I haven’t seen you lately, but I’d like you to meet Beltur. You might recall that he was the one who took care of three of the Prefect’s whites.”
“Meldryn. It has been a while.” Caradyn’s shields hid any emotion he might have felt, and his smile and eyes were both warm as he looked to Beltur. “I’ve heard about you. Combining order and chaos, was it?”
“Only in forging cupridium. And it’s always chaos bounded by order, as it was when I had to confront the Prefect’s whites. Far more order, very little chaos.”
“So it would seem, fortunately for all of us. I’m glad to meet you. You’re a mage of many talents, it would appear.” Caradyn turned back to Meldryn. “It’s good to see you, and for you to introduce young Beltur. The next time I get to your part of the city, I’ll have to get some of your bread and pies.” With a last smile, he eased away.
Beltur realized that he and Meldryn were the last mages in the conference room.
“I’d hoped to introduce you to more blacks, but…” Meldryn shrugged. “They didn’t seem to want to talk. We can discuss matters on the walk back home.”
Beltur took that to mean that Meldryn wasn’t about to say anything meaningful while in the Council building. “I appreciate your making the effort. There are so few that I’ve met.”
“I thought it would be useful, one way or another. I suppose we should head out.”
No sooner had Meldryn and Beltur left the Council building and started down the street toward Bakers Lane than Lhadoraak and Mharkyn eased up to them.
“I didn’t expect that,” said Lhadoraak. “I mean, I thought it likely that Cohndar would get the position, but … no one even seemed to think about anyone else.”
“I wonder what he promised them,” said Mharkyn in a low voice.
“Whatever it took,” replied Lhadoraak.
“He’s talked about the Council paying mages more,” said Mharkyn, “but the traders won’t pay more than they have to. A few extra silvers for City Patrol duty or boat inspections won’t help us that much.”
“He likely pointed out that the white mages in Gallos are better organized and get paid more,” said Meldryn.
“When they get paid,” murmured Beltur.
None of the others heard him, or if they did, chose not to reply to his words.
“I couldn’t believe Caradyn,” said Mharkyn. “He and Cohndar often don’t agree.”
“It could be that they both agree that blacks have to do something to gain more power,” suggested Meldryn mildly.
“I still don’t like it,” replied Mharkyn.
“What do you think we can do?” asked Meldryn.
“Nothing. Not for the moment,” said Lhadoraak. “That’s what’s so rotten about it.”
“Rottenness finds its own reward,” declared Meldryn, “but it spoils the pie for everyone else as well.”
Lhadoraak laughed, if slightly bitterly.
None of the four said anything during the time it took to walk another block and turn on to Bakers Lane.
“Do you think things are really as bad as Cohndar says?” finally asked Mharkyn.
“As far as Gallos goes, I don’t think so,” said Meldryn. “The whites lost five or six strong mages and close to ten thousand troopers. I strongly doubt that the Prefect will try another invasion anytime soon.”
“Then why…?” Mharkyn left the question unfinished.
“Why indeed? Perhaps because fear can unite people behind the most unsuitable of leaders, especially when that fear is strong and targeted at a common enemy or those who are different, or sometimes both. When people are fearful, the last thing they want to hear is that their fears are unreasonable or unjustified.”
“I’m not so sure my concerns about Cohndar are unjustified,” said Beltur.
“You said ‘concerns,’ Beltur,” replied Meldryn. “Concerns by their nature are reasoned. Fears are not.”
“That’s an interesting way of putting it,” said Lhadoraak, “but I promised Mharkyn I’d stop by his place for a moment, and we’re heading off now.”
“Then we’ll talk later,” suggested Meldryn, “or whenever you come by the bakery.”
“I can do that.”
Beltur and Meldryn walked in silence, except for the occasional squeaking crunch when their boots crossed infrequent patches of snow.
“Veroyt knew this would happen,” said Beltur after a time. “Our being there couldn’t have changed anything.”
“It changed one thing,” replied the gray-bearded mage. “You saw how Waensyn and Cohndar have already gotten almost everyone to support them. Would you have felt the same way if you hadn’t seen how Cohndar was immediately accepted?”
“Most likely not, but why would Veroyt want you to see that? To warn you?”
“It could be. Or he could want you to know.”
“Why me?”
“You’re the strongest mage in Elparta. That might have something to do with it.”
“So I’m supposed to oppose Cohndar? Openly?”
“That might be best for Veroyt. It likely wouldn’t be best for you.”
Or for Meldryn, Beltur realized.
“What do you think Cohndar meant by blacks being better disciplined?” asked Meldryn.
“He wants everyone to think the way he does, and that sounds dangerous because we don’t.” For a moment, Beltur had been thinking more about himself, but had realized that, after what he’d overheard Cohndar saying about Athaal and Meldryn during the last eightday of the invasion, Meldryn was likely to be as much a target as Beltur himself.
“Wants them to think that way?”
“He’s setting things up so that most if not all the blacks follow his lead.”
Just like Wyath did in Gallos. Beltur shivered, and not from the cold. “I don’t like it.”
“Neither do I, but openly opposing him at the moment will only cause us more trouble.”
What Meldryn wasn’t saying was that most of that trouble would be centered on Beltur.
“We have a lot to think about,” declared Meldryn as they neared the corner of Crossed and Bakers Lanes.
We certainly do.
XIV
On twoday, Beltur stepped out of the house at his normal time because, despite the cold, the main streets were at least half cleared. He was also glad to see Laranya, because that meant he wouldn’t have cleaning to do when he returned from the smithy.
Once he left the southeast city gate, he noticed the road had been cleared for twenty yards east of the gate. At the end of the cleared section, the snow had been packed down to a hard surface no more than five or six digits deep, and there were depressions a hand-width across separated by more than a yard, with hoofprints in the middle. For a moment that puzzled him, before he realized that the snow had been packed by a horse-drawn sleigh or sledge, likely several of them. He’d heard of both, but he’d never seen either.
The packed snow made the rest of the walk to Jorhan’s smithy far
less difficult than it might have been, and it helped that Jorhan had cleared a path in the middle of the lane from the road to the smithy. The tracks in the snow at the bottom of the lane suggested that someone in a sleigh or sledge had visited the smith. He couldn’t help but wonder who that might have been.
When he entered the smithy, Jorhan was standing at the near workbench, smoothing the interior of a mold that appeared to be for another ornate mirror.
“Good morning,” offered Beltur cheerfully. “It looks like you had visitors.” He unwrapped his scarf from around him and took off his coat and hung it on the wall peg.
Jorhan smiled. “I did. A merchant from Kleth came out on sevenday. Someone I’d never heard of. He bought a pair of mirrors. I let him have them for a bit less than I might have otherwise, four golds for the pair.”
“That wasn’t bad, was it?”
“I’d been selling them each for two golds five, but four golds in hand at the moment makes sense. He made a special trip out because he’d heard that, before long, it would be hard to get new-forged cupridium for less than four golds for even the smallest pieces.” Jorhan snorted. “Some of the bargain was for what he told me.”
“Trader Alizant?”
Jorhan nodded. “I’ll tell you later. The first mold’s ready. I don’t want it to overheat.”
Beltur understood that, yet couldn’t help worrying as he moved to the bellows.
Whether it was the weather, or because Beltur worried so much, the day seemed to drag out, even though, by the time fourth glass arrived, the two had cast two more mirrors and a carving set of a knife and matching serving fork.
“A bit of a chance on those two, but they didn’t take that much copper,” Jorhan said, once Beltur had stepped away from the mold that held the fork.
“What will you charge for them?”
“I’ll ask two golds and settle for something less.” Jorhan grinned. “As little less as I can manage.”
“That sounds good to me.”
“It might not be until spring, but I didn’t expect the fellow from Kleth.” The smith shook his head. “Just a moment.” With that, he turned and hurried out of the smithy and along the snow-packed path to the stone house.
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