Disclaimers and acknowledgements in Chapter 00

Chapter Eight

The soft knocking on the door told Reinald that at least some of
his guests were at hand. Before Mulder and Scully had arrived,
almost all the business of the Realm had been done in the Council
Chamber, among squabbling nobles. Now, most of it was done before
the roaring fire that dominated one wall of his sitting room. After all,
if the Houses' foolishness didn't get in the way of running Fairwoods,
Reinald was happier, Andalor was better advised, and everyone was
healthier, or so Kyla said every time the matter came up. The fire
also drew them in times of darkness, worry and sorrow. This night, it
was as much for comfort as business that the friends came together.

"Pitir, be a good boy and get the door," he said, rising to begin
preparing tea for his guests.

When he turned around, the door had been opened to admit Aldara and
Jourdain. In spite of the battle and the injury to Livirnea, Jourdain
looked more rested, no doubt buoyed by being once again with his wife.
Reinald smiled. The two warriors' love had been born at one of the
darkest moments of the Realm's history. In a very real way, they,
along with their strangely gifted daughter, were a personification of
the Realm's hopes and dreams, struggles and promise.

"It is good to see you back, my friend," he said to Jourdain, handing
the Guards' Captain a cup of fragrant tea, "and you so happy," he
continued to Aldara, winking at both of the warriors. Sobering, he
asked, "Has either of you seen Andalor?"

"No," Aldara replied, "or at least not since this morning when I spoke

with him about Shannon." Yet another topic for discussion in front of
the hearth.

"I'm sure that he'll be along in a moment," Jourdain said. "He was
very worried about Livirnea. No doubt he wanted to look in on the
Healer's progress with her before he came here."

"I see," Reinald said. A flash of concern passed over his face for
the young man whom he loved as a son. "We will have to remind
him to be careful about how much time he spends with Livirnea
over the next few days," he said with a sigh.

"True," Aldara replied. "The last thing we need is for Shannon to
blast him as a result of misplaced anger and jealousy."

"Blast whom?" Andalor asked from the doorway, his deep violet eyes
shadowed with disquiet and weariness.

"You," Reinald replied, handing a cup of tea to the King as he sat in
another of the room's well-cushioned chairs. "You will have to be
very careful that your concern for Livirnea is not misinterpreted as
something more by Shannon. Although she will not be 'blasting' you,
nor will she be throwing any more Magestorms for a while. I have
taken steps to prevent both."

Andalor began to protest, but stopped when Reinald held up an
admonishing hand. "I know, I know. I remember what Shannon
promised earlier and I have no doubt she was sincere and will try
her best. But her nature is that of a warrior - fiery, quick to anger.
In spite of her best intentions, we would be foolish not to expect...
outbursts... from time to time. She will be under great pressure.
And pressure can make even the best-tended pot boil over."

The King thought over the Royal Mage's words and grudgingly accepted
the truth in them.

"What is this? Has there been a reconciliation, then?" asked Aldara
eagerly.

Andalor flashed her a relieved smile. "Yeah. Shannon came and
apologized to both Reinald and me. I guess her conversation with
Mage Mulder got her thinking. She's promised to work hard to get

ready for Ballorca's test. I have a feeling Warrior Healer Scully was
also a party to the conversation, one way or another," he went on,
musingly. "Shannon can wrap Mulder around her finger without even
trying. Scully is a different story, and she's always been the more
practical of the two."

The half-elven warrior chuckled. "So once more we have to thank the
Companions for saving the Realm."

"Truer words than you know," Reinald said dryly. "I need not remind
you of the calamity which would befall all of us sitting here and the
Realm in general should it become known where Shannon comes from.
Not to mention our part in keeping that knowledge from the Council of
Representatives and the Noble Houses."

There was an uneasy silence while each contemplated Reinald's words.

"In any case," the Royal Mage declared more brightly, "progress has
been made, the lass has turned over a new leaf, and we must all
support her as well as we can. No matter how much we may have tried
to warn her about the differences between her world and our own, she
could not have fully realized that this wasn't a fantasy world. It
appears her culture is full of such stories, from what Gunther tells
me. In those myths, the princess has few responsibilities, other
than choosing the handsome prince. The realities are, of course, quite
different. What do you think, Warrior Aldara?  After all, you've spent
more time with the girl recently than any of us."

"I believe that you are right, Mage," she replied softly from where
she sat next to Jourdain. "I think if we give her time to work through
her feelings about the responsibility that has been laid on her, she
will be fine. After all, she is a warrior by aura, and she had already
developed a great deal of discipline in her training on the fields.
Yet remember how much she resisted even her warrior training at
the time. She came around then. I think that sense of discipline will
reassert itself and flow into her other work, given time and
patience." She smiled encouragingly at Andalor.

"Unfortunately, Shannon's training will be set back some days by the
injuries Livirnea took on the road from Ranfaus," Jourdain said
mournfully. "How is she, Your Majesty?"

He sighed. "She is stable, in a healing trance and in no pain. That's
the good news. The bad - her recovery will be a long and slow one.
Gifted as she is, Kyla is still only one person. Already she appears
exhausted by the demands of starting the healing process on
Livirnea's injuries.

"I don't have to tell you that Livirnea is of tremendous importance
to all of us," the King continued. "Not only for the reason Reinald
alluded to, her pivotal role in readying Shannon, but also as the
daughter of our staunchest political supporter. Without Mandor's
aid, the Crown would be in severe trouble. And finally, she is a close
friend whom I love as a sister. Because of all these reasons, I have
commanded Healer Sirisa and her new apprentice to assist Kyla
in bringing Livirnea back to good health as soon as possible."

He noted Reinald's look of alarm. "I know, Reinald. But I feel there
is little risk that Sirisa will learn anything that could prove...
awkward. Her healing duties while Livirnea lies so grievously
wounded will be mainly to support the healing stasis and assist
in regeneration of blood cells to replace all that was lost. Once
that task is done, the healing will not be so complex or demanding
that Kyla cannot perform it alone. At that time, Sirisa will return to
her other duties. While I believe we could rely on Sirisa's discretion,
there is very little chance that she will learn anything of note during
her healing sessions with Livirnea. And Kyla already shares our
secret. I'm sorry, Reinald," he said, looking up at his mentor.
"Perhaps I should have discussed this with the group first, but if
you could have seen how pale she was, how much blood she had
lost...." He shook himself. "We cannot risk Livirnea's life. Not even
if it means our downfall."

"I quite agree, my boy," Reinald responded warmly.

Jourdain had seemed to age while the King spoke. "I am only sorry
I did not protect her better, Your Majesty. Then none of this would
have been necessary. Perhaps the time has come for me to consider
retirement."

"Much as we might miss Mage Mulder, Jourdain, you don't have to take
on his habits," Aldara observed. "Guilt doesn't look any better on you
than it does on him."

Her comment had the desired effect, and the tension that had gripped

the room was broken by wry chuckling. Reinald was glad to see that
Jourdain joined in. While not as wholehearted as with the others, it
was a relief to see the smile lift years from the Guard Captain's
visage.

"As always, you speak with wisdom," Jourdain said.

"Indeed she does, and you would do well to remember it," agreed
Andalor. "I do not see how you could have done anything more to

prevent this, Captain Jourdain. Furthermore, your quick and decisive
action undoubtedly saved Livirnea's life. Once more I am in your debt.
So let us hear no more about retirement."

"What we need to find out is who is responsible for this atrocity,"
Aldara declared. But before she could say anything further on the
matter, a knock preceded Kyla's entrance, the Professor discreetly
offering her a supporting arm.

Although warned by the King's speech of moments before, the fact that
such support was necessary shook all of them. Although not as gifted a
Healer as Corvay had been, Kyla was an excellent practitioner of the
art, and a tall, strong, vibrant woman. The fact that she had been badly
drained by working on Livirnea's injuries told all of them how serious
they were.

Jourdain rose quickly in order to help the Professor guide Kyla -- who
was in truth both taller and heavier than the older man -- into a chair
and then brought a stool over for her to put her feet on.  Reinald
quickly warmed some restorative tea and brought it to her.

"Thank you, Mage," she croaked. The strain that she had faced in
keeping Livirnea alive had weakened her voice to a breathless whisper.
She noticed Andalor, hunched and miserable by the fire.

"I'm sorry, Your Majesty," she said. "I hadn't realized that you were
present."

"It is of no consequence, Healer Kyla," Andalor said. "The important

thing is that your talents have been well used and I am more grateful
than I can express. I am only sorry for the draining effects on you."

The Healer waved her hand tiredly. "It is an expected part of my
profession. What is more important is that, given several more days'
worth of intensive treatments by both Healer Sirisa and myself, she
will recover. Full recovery may take several weeks, but she will get
there. Had Captain Jourdain not gotten her here when he did, I have no
doubt that she would have died. But as things stand now, we can only
wait while her body restores the blood that she lost. Then I will be
able to assist her in recovering from her injuries."

"That is good to hear," Andalor said quietly, the relief that Livirnea
would live shining on his young face. This most pressing concern
resolved, his attention turned to Aldara's question -- the sequence of
events that had brought about many of the problems that they now
faced. "Captain Jourdain, you told Reinald that you were attacked by
a large band of brigands only a candlemark's ride from the castle?"

"That is true," Jourdain replied, his face darkening at the memory.
"We were riding quickly, and I had hoped to arrive at the castle by
nightfall. The road was unusually quiet, but I assumed that this was
due more to the merchants being at the fall festivals than to
brigandage. I think we also assumed that flying His Majesty's colors
would be enough to protect us from anything that we might meet.
Unfortunately, the leader of this band was neither afraid of His
Majesty's best soldiers, nor was he a poor tactician. They caught us
in a perfect trap, and had at least one archer with them."

"An archer with a band of brigands?" asked the Professor in surprise.

"I thought that the skills of an archer were very expensive. Surely
too expensive for a band of common thieves."

Jourdain nodded grimly. "Aye, that has been bothering me as well.
Black mages, whose skills could be bought for less than those of an
archer, were far more common among such highwaymen. But they
have, for the most part, been driven out of the Realm. As a result,
archers for hire have become even more expensive and difficult to find.
Which means," he concluded, "that this band of brigands is both
unusually well financed, as well as unusually skilled in strategy and
tactics.

"I see," the Professor said, lapsing back into his chair. The
implications of this new threat were as clear to him as to everyone
else in the room. If the King's own Guard was not safe, then who was?
The effect on trade could be devastating.

"What happened after the first attack?" Reinald asked.

Quickly, Jourdain related the details of the battle. "After we left,
Bashar was able to find the archer, and literally cut down the tree
from which he was firing. When they lost their advantage, the
brigands fled, but only after having killed four of my men, and
wounding several others."

"You did the right thing by leaving and bringing Livirnea with you,"
Andalor said. "I know it ran against your instincts to leave your men,
but it was the right decision."

"That I know," Jourdain said with a sigh. "Still, I did not like having
to run like a frightened child, and I hope that I never have to do it
again."

"Unfortunately, I fear that unless we find out who is sponsoring
these brigands, you will have all of the chances to take revenge on
them that you could wish for," Aldara said.

"You believe that they are being sponsored by someone?" Reinald
asked, his concern at this news nearly bringing him out of his chair.

Aldara nodded vigorously. "Without doubt. It is the only explanation
which fits." Her emerald green eyes solemnly surveyed the group.
"Moreover, I do not feel that the ambush was an accident."

"What!" cried Reinald.

"As Jourdain said, few brigands have the resources needed to recruit
an archer. Further, that particular road is not a profitable one on
which to hunt right now. The trade caravans passed through that area
several weeks ago. A leader smart enough to lay that ambush would

also be informed enough to know that. No, I am almost certain there
must be a spy here in Fairwoods who reported that Jourdain had been
sent to Ranfaus for some vital purpose. No matter the reason,
ambushing the Captain of the King's Guard on the road, and possibly
killing him, would be of great benefit to any of the Noble Houses.
Whatever booty or message might have been carried from Ranfaus
to the castle would be a further reward to whomever was responsible
for the attack."

"True," Jourdain agreed. "It is almost certain that things were
arranged as Aldara says, for I could name a hundred better places
to set such a powerful force if one were simply interested in plunder
and goods. Had Livirnea and Bashar not shown as much sense and
skill as they did, things might have turned much more disastrously."

"Livirnea's injury might have been an accident - but it might just as
easily have been deliberate," Reinald murmured gravely. "Think what
the loss of his daughter -- on a mission requested by the King --
would do to Lord Ranfaus. I doubt if we could have expected his House's

support in the future. And Goddess knows we need it. Jourdain, do
you think that this was an attack on the Crown, Ranfaus, or yourself?"

"I think that it was probably an attack on the King and his ability
to rule," Jourdain said after a moment's thought. "After all, a
successful attack would show the King just how powerful his unknown
enemy is, and could make the Crown look weak in the eyes of the Realm.
It goes without saying that a successful assassination of His Majesty's
Guards' Captain would have been an added benefit," he concluded dryly.

"So you don't think that they knew that you would have Livirnea
with you?" asked Andalor.

Jourdain considered the question. "No," he said finally. "After all,
only those of us in this room knew that she was the object of my
mission to Ranfaus. Though it is certainly possible that the archer
recognized her, and realized that her death would be a further blow
to the Crown."

"I agree." The group was startled by the sudden decisiveness in
the King's tone. "Fortunately, we've got some time before the next
trading season. I hope that we'll be able to determine who is
responsible for these attacks by then."

"We'd better," Aldara said softly. "If we don't, the next trading
season will be even bloodier than this season has been, and far too
many have died already."

Silence fell over the room as each contemplated the possible
consequences to the all-too-fragile society that remained in the wake
of the Dark Queen's assault. All knew that the Realm could not stand
yet more seasons of bloodshed and violence.
 

Finally, the King spoke. "Very well. Jourdain, you will devise a plan
to increase security along the roads of the Realm, particularly those
most used by the trading caravans. You may have to recruit more
guards, and if so, do it. Put out a call throughout all the villages
for those with warrior talent.
 

"Captain Aldara - your job will be even more daunting. First, you will
of course be in charge of training any new recruits. Then, I want you
to do whatever you can to uncover who is behind these attacks. Use
whatever sources of information you currently have, and try to extend
your network of informants. And finally, and most daunting of all..."
 

"Yes, Andalor?" prompted Aldara.

The young King grinned. "Please take over Shannon's history lessons
until Livirnea is back on her feet."
 

End of Chapter Eight
 
 

THE MAGICIAN 3.5 - THE FIREBRAND
By Suzanne Bickerstaffe and Matthew Weed
(ecksphile@earthlink.net, matthew.weed@yale.edu)
Winter-Spring 2001

Disclaimers and acknowledgements in Chapter One
 

Chapter Nine
 

They were grouped by the glowing embers of a dying hearth. The
chamber was luxuriously furnished, though the tapestries that covered
the walls were there less for decoration than to cover the cracks made
when the destruction of the Great Hall had shaken all of Fairwoods.
Few torches were lit so as not to draw attention to the activities
within the chamber. The fewer who knew the details, the better. Only
the inner circle, those who could be trusted absolutely, gathered to
discuss this, the first stage of a plan that could see them rise to the
highest stations in the Realm -- or die as traitors.

"Mandor's daughter was seriously injured - they say she might yet
die," observed one, a young man with old eyes.

The tall, austere noble shrugged. "Her injuries were unplanned, but
could work well for us. Granted, I would have preferred that Captain
Jourdain was struck down, as intended. But the death of the beloved
daughter of Ranfaus while under the protection of the King's Guard
could deprive Andalor of his strongest ally among the Houses."

The young noble looked up. "Her death can be assured, if you desire
it."

The leader shook his head. "No need, Ruloth. Even if she survives,
the alliance between the Crown and Ranfaus will be badly shaken,
possibly even as effectively as her death. Either way, we gain. No,
let us limit our risk, especially here in Fairwoods, for now."

There were grunts of agreement from around the hearth.

"Vestor, you are sure there is no way we can be tied to this attack?"

The stocky noble, in his rough mercenary's disguise, smiled grimly.
"None. The 'brigands' bear no identification and have little love for
the King or the law of the Realm. Only their leader knew who was
providing the gold and weapons and planning. And, as luck would have
it, he perished with a Guard bolt through the chest. The assumption
will be what we want it to be - that he was killed by the King's Guard.
I chose my moment wisely."

The austere older man's lips twitched. "You were born for this kind of
work, Vestor."

"Indeed I was," he replied smugly. "I had feared I would never have
the opportunity to use my talents."

"There will be a cornucopia of opportunity for you, before this is all
over. May I remind you that this is just a first step. The Dark Queen
did us more than one favor, first by ridding us of a Householder
grown fat, lazy and ridiculed, then by the widespread bloodshed and
chaos that can't help but undermine that arrogant young pup's reign.
But we must be disciplined and have patience. An ill-considered act,
a moment of carelessness, a word or gesture to the wrong person,

and we'll be kneeling before the headsman's ax. It may take two or
three season-cycles to realize our goals. But the rewards will be
worth it. Ruloth, what is your next step?"

"We will continue to supplement the brigandage on the roads,
leaving all but the most important caravans and travelers to the
riff-raff and common criminals. When there is a particularly rich
trading caravan or noble's party, we will strike with a ruthlessness
that will ensure the event causes fear and unrest among the
King's subjects. And as always, we will be alert for any gossip or
careless talk that could open up more opportunities."

"And I will work within the Council and among the other Houses,
doing what I can to keep things stirred up," added the older noble.
"Though the gods know that most of the Houses are quite capable of
doing that on their own. We must keep an eye on Hegan of Dordinal,
however. He grows too big for his britches, that one. His best use to
us is in distracting the attention of the King and Captains Jourdain
and Aldara. With his mouth, if any House involvement is suspected
in the unrest, it will be Dordinal that invites speculation and
suspicion."

"And Forst - well, we will just wait for Forst to destroy themselves!"
Vestor laughed, and was joined by the others.

"Very well. We will meet again in a week. We should know more about
Mandor's actions by then. Remember - not a word of this to anyone,
not even here in our own House. There is too much to be gained -
and lost."
 

*    *     *     *
 

Ghalbar kicked his heels into his mount's flanks, yet again wishing
his journey could be shorter. His horse was still young and did not
have the endurance that a full adult would have. The fact that he
had disappeared would tell Darliss that the faction of the family
headed by Margul would soon know of her treachery. Although she was
not smart enough to stop him, the Dordinal vermin with whom she had
allied herself would send a party out to kill him if they could.
Therefore, it was essential that he get himself -- and the news he
carried -- to Forst's traditional seat before they could catch up with
him.
 

He had ridden hard all of the way from the Castle to his family's
ancestral home, and now man and horse teetered on the edge of
exhaustion. Fortunately, they were drawing closer to the great star-
shaped fortress, whose towers could be seen on the horizon. Four
days after hearing about the agreement that would seal Darliss'
proposed marriage and transfer of land, the anger the announcement
had brought still burned. But Margul had a reputation for
coolheadedness. Given the explosive nature of the news, as well as the
rancorous relationship between the leader of the home-based faction
and his Fairwoods-based aunt, Ghalbar hoped that this reputation would
hold.

As he drew closer to the shores of the lake surrounding his family's
home, he began searching for the small stables that he had last seen
as a young boy. He had left his home with his grandfather Ian, when
the old man had taken a powerful contingent from Forst's lands to
Fairwoods, to better assert his House's claim as one of the great
Houses of the Realm, and had not been home since. For all he knew,
the stables might well have been moved in the intervening years.
Moments later, however, he caught sight of the structure, and gently
directed his exhausted steed toward the building that lay low on the
near shore of the lake that surrounded his family's home.  His mount
gave a final burst of speed, knowing instinctively that the stable
ahead represented the end of its long and painful journey.

Long, painful - and desperately important. If Margul was not the
skilled leader that he was supposed to be, there was little question
that Forst would fall to the ravening pack of Dordinal wolves, with
Hegan at its head. However, if Margul was as competent as he was
supposed to be, he just might be the only person in the Realm who
could deflect the terrible disaster that seemed to await all who were
loyal to Forst and its allies. Ghalbar knew there could be no question
that Hegan was unusually cunning -- even in a family known
for its infighting and willingness to stab its own members in the back.
He had made Darliss' stupidity, which had led to scandals both great
and small at Fairwoods, his best ally in his effort to gain control of
his own House, and destroy his family's ancient enemy in the process.
She had willingly gone along with his ploy, and her treachery, whether

intended or simply accidental, would lead to the virtual theft of a
large chunk of Forst's oldest and most treasured lands. It saddened
Ghalbar greatly that he had not known of the plot in time to warn his
family's home-based contingent. It would have saved them much
embarassment, or worse, in the future.

As his mount slid to a stop in front of the newly expanded stables,
he sighed, partly in relief at reaching home, and partly in
anticipation of the difficulties that lay ahead. He was inordinately
pleased to see that the young attendant was already moving to receive
both himself and his horse. In truth, he was too tired to look for the
stableboy wanting only to find Margul, report his news, and then
collapse into a warm bed. The youngster's eyes were nearly round
with shock at his superior's obviously weary and bedraggled state,
widening further at the brusque manner to which he was now exposed.

"I need to get across the lake immediately," Ghalbar said, cutting
short the customary exchanges that etiquette demanded, even here in

the stables.The boy began wiping down the animal, whose sweat ran in
great frothing waves down its flanks. "I'm sorry, milord. My lord
Margul ordered the boats held in shore as the ice is becoming too
dangerous to pass," he said.

 "The gods be damned!" Ghalbar cried, wondering if the celestial beings
were,
indeed, plotting against him and his family. "I must get across the lake,"
he said, the desperation that he felt leaking into his voice.

"I'm sorry, Milord," the boy repeated, "but there's no way that it'll be
happenin' a'fore the lake freezes, and that could be days yet."

"Do you know of anyone on the shore whom I could get to take me
across?" Ghalbar asked. He knew that many of the peasants who lived
near the shore had small fishing boats that could serve his purpose.

After a few moments' thought, the stable boy's face broke into a wide
grin, and the words that he needed so desperately to hear caressed
Ghalbar's wind-burned ears. "Well, sir, if it's really that important
that you get to see Lord Margul.... I s'ppose that he's the man you're
here to see?" At Ghalbar's quick nod, the boy continued, "I have a
small boat that I could take you over in, so long as you tell 'im that
I did it at your order."

Although he was acquainted with Margul only by reputation, Ghalbar
knew that he was said to be highly utilitarian, and willing to make
exceptions to his own rules when the necessity for them became clear.
Given the current situation, he had no doubt that the leader would not
only make an exception, but would probably reward the boy for his
initiative.

"I will tell him so, and if he does not reward you handsomely, I shall,"
Ghalbar told the boy.

The boy's smile grew at the approval from one who was as important
as his elder seemed to be. "I can be ready in a few minutes, milord.
Do you know where the piers are?"

"It's been a while, but I think I can get there."

"All right then," the boy said, turning to finish his work. "I'll be
ready for you as soon as I find Ardok to care for the horses."

"Very well. But hurry," he urged. Once again, his mind turned
towards his mission.

*    *    *

After reading the documents Ghalbar had delivered, Margul turned to
his cousin, his expression tight with anger. "You are certain this is
true?"

"Positive, Lord Margul. I heard of the matter myself, and would have
put a stop to it if I could. However, things had progressed too far by
that point," he said morosely. "I am sure that the plan was hatched
by the Dordinal nobles who are doubtless trying to build the position
of their champion, Hegan. Indeed, all the Houses seem to be embroiled
in their own wars of succession, and other plots run rife throughout
the Realm."

"I see," Margul said softly. "This tallies with other news I have
heard. I have had some difficulty in maintaining contact with our
contingent in the castle and so your report on Darliss' stupidity and
treachery is helpful. It is unfortunate that she either doesn't
recognize or care about the likely consequences of her actions. Now,
I must talk with Charla and see what she thinks of the matter."

Startled, Ghalbar blurted out nervously, "Charla? She's here?" He
clamped his jaw down hard. Too late he had remembered that this
woman who had inspired so much fear and scandal within the family
had shared a special relationship with the boy who would grow into
the powerful noble before him. Had he come all this way only to lose
Margul's favor now? He hastened to make amends. "I- I'm sorry... I
meant no insult. I know that you were close to her, but most of us
younger ones feared her," he said, hoping his explanation would pass
muster.
 

"It is of no matter," Margul said quietly. Indeed, he was reassured by
Ghalbar's ignorance of Charla's whereabouts. It was precisely to keep
such news from leaking back to Fairwoods that he had ordered the boats
taken in several days before it had truly been necessary. Fortunately,
there was no risk of such news reaching the castle via Ghalbar. The

young man wouldn't be able to get back to Fairwoods Keep for some
time, a result of the rapidly worsening weather. Not to mention his
likely status as a hunted man. Either or both would more than suffice
to make him unable to leave the family seat for quite some time to
come. No, Charla's presence at the Forst manorhouse would remain
a secret to the outside world.

Always mindful of the vagaries of the politics of the Houses, Margul
analyzed his cousin's errand and the motives behind it, for there were
always motives - some hidden, some out in the open for all to see.
Ghalbar seemed straightforward and honest, having no agenda save
that of bringing this unfortunate news to his family. For the moment,
this would have to be enough, though if Charla could sit down with
him and learn more of his motivations in this drama, Margul knew
that he would feel better still. For the moment, he knew that he
would simply have to trust that he could control the situation. He
hoped that further good could be done by offering his cousin the
chance to become involved in the plans that were, even now, forming
in his mind. If he had read the emotion that Ghalbar's report had
carried correctly, the younger man would agree to help out in a
variety of ways. Most importantly, he would be able to give Margul
and his advisors a better sense of what was going on at the castle.

Breaking the long silence, the leader of the home-based faction spoke
his mind. "I may need to confer with you later concerning things that
are going on here, things that I think you might be able to assist me
in accomplishing, if you choose to. Before I do, though, I think that
you should get a bath, some hot food and some rest. You've obviously
had a hard journey, and I will need you at your sharpest when we speak
again."

"I understand, and I am grateful," the younger man said.

"Very well, you will take the apartment directly below this room. I
shall send a servant with bathwater and food and wine shortly."

"Thank you," Ghalbar said. Suddenly, his fatigue hit him like a
charging fieldbeast. The younger man began dragging himself from
Margul's chamber, supporting himself against the door. Before he could
leave however, his body jerked and he turned back toward Margul, his
face tight with worry.

"What is it?" Margul asked, his respect for the young man's
determination and courage rising as quickly as his concern for
him.

"I almost forgot to tell you of two events that occurred at the castle
in the days before I left. I believe that it is possible that both are
of great importance."

"Yes?" Margul prompted when the younger man paused.

"The first concerns Shannon, the young woman to whom King Andalor
is betrothed," he replied. "It is said that she has Mage talent, and
in a spat with the King five nights before my departure, she took anger
at him and struck at him using her magics. I do not know what the
outcome of the matter was, other than that the King seemed physically
well when I passed him some days after the Magestorm that I assume
was the young lady's creation."

"I see," Margul said thoughtfully, not sure what the implications of
this news might be. On one hand, a magically gifted queen would pose
a serious threat to plans that Houses such as Dordinal might raise
against the throne. Given her age and the apparent lateness of the

onset of her powers, it was not likely that she would be as great as
the Realm's foremost Mages, but her offspring might inherit enormous
power -- both magical and temporal. However, Ghalbar had reported
that the young couple had quarrelled, and it was well known that the
Lady Shannon had a violent temper. Possibly this would wreck the
marriage before it could begin. Although he had his own, very private
reasons for hoping that the young king would be able to marry the
woman that he loved, the necessity to plan for the possible outcomes
of a broken betrothal was obvious.

The House leader's thoughts were interrupted by the sound of Ghalbar's
clearing throat, and he remembered the young man brought other news.
"You said you had something else to report?"

"Yes," the young man replied. "On the day of my departure, the Guards'
captain Jourdain returned from a secret mission to House Ranfaus,
carrying the Lady Livirnea on his horse. She was gravely injured, and
I don't know whether she lived or died, though Healer Kyla came to her
aid almost immediately. I had to use the confusion of Captain
Jourdain's arrival to execute my own plans and leave the castle so
I could report these things to you."

"Thank you for this information." This news was even more intriguing
than the information of the lady Shannon's apparent outburst. There
was no obvious reason for Livirnea to come to the castle at that time
of year, particularly as she was known to be very concerned about
her father's health. However, it was said that Mandor was recovering
well and so it was possible -- though not likely in Margul's opinion --
the Lady Livirnea had chosen to return to the castle for the winter.
It seemed far likelier that she had been asked to act as mediator
between the King and his fiancee, both of whom were known to be
close friends to her. The attack against the royal guards' party
concerned Margul greatly. Andalor's House had supported Forst in the
past, and the fact that someone had been sufficiently daring to
organize a band of attackers large enough to seriously challenge the
wily Jourdain was worrying indeed. One of the other Houses was
obviously plotting against the King, and Margul would have to devote
resources to finding out which one was doing so. Such information
would be valuable, and could be slipped to the King in exchange for
support of Forst's cause -- or Charla's.

Remembering his guest, Margul spoke without raising his eyes
from the small fire burning in the grate. "Go now and get some rest,
Ghalbar. I will call you when you are needed. Your service to this
House, and to me in particular, shall not be forgotten."

"Thank you," the other man said softly, his uneven footsteps sounding
hollowly as he left the room.

Some time later, the light tap that Margul had come to recognize as
Charla's knock roused him from his thoughts, and he rose quickly
to open the door for her.

"Can I offer you some tea?" he asked as soon as she had been seated.

"No, thank you." she replied, her face creased in a small frown. "Who
was that young man who left here some moments ago? He was nearly
dead on his feet, and I had to assist him downstairs before I came to
see you."

"He is Ghalbar, one of the younger ones that Ian took to the castle
when he expanded our contingent there."

"Oh," she said, her face clearing slightly. "I thought I recognized
his... essence... from somewhere, but couldn't place him."
 

"Not surprising," Margul said shortly. "He is one of the children to
whom Darliss and the others told stories about you. Though you may
not have recognized him, he certainly knew your name when I mentioned
it."

"I see," she replied, the words barely more than a whisper. "I wish
the stupid bitch had kept her mouth shut. It would definitely have
made my life easier -- both here and at Fairwoods."

"Well, it would seem that she has proven her stupidity yet again."

"In what way?" demanded Charla, her attention ripped back from her
memories, and now fully fixed on the man in front of her.

Margul updated his cousin on the news that had come via Ghalbar,
and was not surprised by her strong response to her half-cousin's
actions. "Of all the stupid, half-witted, brainless things she could
have done!" Charla cried. She barely remembered to shield before
the sky, which had begun to cloud over in response to her anger,
could unleash the torrent of ice crystals characteristic of a
Magestorm in the winter. "When we were young, I always knew she
was just smart enough to get everyone else into trouble. And now she
has proven it by going and trying to marry a man who would just as
happily see this House torn assunder and cast to the carion-birds on
the Uriin Plains!" she thundered, rising and moving angrily about the
room.

"I know all of this well," Margul said, more than willing to allow her
the time to work off her anger.

Her words came to him as she stood looking out of a small window
across the room, her arms flailing with the force of her emotions. "It
seems that it is not only her mouth, but other parts of her body as
well that get us into trouble," she ranted. "What is worse, we will
have to figure out how to keep her mouth and her libidinous nature
from concurring to an agreement to marry that greedy swinebeast. Our
House will end up being ruled by Dordinal, just as she hopes that her

desires will be mastered by Hegan's presence in her bed."
 
Margul noted how closely attuned their thoughts were on the matter.
But he chose to slow his fiery-tempered cousin's rush to judgment,
reminding her why she had come home and why she had so wished
he had been available to her in the one way that had been forbidden
them when they were younger. "What we must do now is plan. Plan for
the time when we can deal with her treachery and the acquisitiveness
of her new, and I'm sure, very temporary, ally. We also musmust also
think carefully on how we can use the news concerning Lady Livirnea
and the royal couple to our benefit. Only by finding our best option
will we be able to make the most of the possibilities that this
situation offers us."

"True," Charla admitted softly, her mind obviously still focused on
what she saw as the greatest problem. Margul knew that, given time,
she would realize that all of these things were, or could be, linked
together, allowing Forst to gain much from the strife that seemed
to be spreading throughout the Realm.

For now, however, he was willing to let her usual hot-tempered
reaction pass, and give her the chance to center her frustration
on the one person who, he knew well, must be the fulcrum on
whom their plans must center in the future. After all, Darliss had
been the cause of much of the hatred and fear that Charla had faced
as a child, and it was her right to think in terms of vengeance against
the older woman, now that she had the chance to get it. Whatever
form it might take, her revenge would be creative, terrible and yet
utterly legal in all senses. Almost as much as he anticipated the
ruin of Dordinal, Margul truly looked forward to seeing the shape
that vengeance would take.
 

End of Chapter Nine
 
 

THE MAGICIAN 3.5 - THE FIREBRAND
By Suzanne Bickerstaffe and Matthew Weed
(ecksphile@earthlink.net, matthew.weed@yale.edu)
Winter-Spring 2001
 

Disclaimers and Acknowledgements in Chapter 00
 

Chapter Ten
 

"All right, Shannon, that will do."

The girl sighed with relief.  "How was I that time?"

"Well... better. Definitely better," Livirnea said kindly. She
reclined on a sofa, a warm woolen blanket covering her. It had been
three weeks since her injuries and she was by no means fully
recovered, as the Healer's trips to her chambers several times a day
attested.  But a week before she had demanded that she be allowed
to start Shannon's lessons, only too aware of the passage of time.
Kyla had reluctantly agreed, providing that she spent no more than
three candlemarks a day in the effort, and that her healing treatments
continue on schedule.

Pale even when healthy, Livirnea's skin now seemed almost transparent,
the blue of her veins and the dark smudges under her eyes standing out
in stark contrast. Her brother Tallor was dispatched by a frantic
Mandor when Andalor's runner arrived at their manor with news of the
attack. He had been shocked by her appearance. Only Kyla's reassurance
that Livirnea's progress was slow but steady had prevented him from
taking his sister back to the manor. But he had listened with an open
mind when Andalor told him of the details of the attack, and all that
had been done to save his sister's life. A draft of the meeting had
been sent to Mandor who, quite generously, absolved Jourdain and
Andalor of any responsibility for his beloved daughter's injuries. The
relationship between the Crown and Ranfaus had passed its first major
test, and those who might have hoped to gain by its unraveling were
keenly disappointed.

Tallor brought other news as well. Lady Norilka had died suddenly,
to the sorrow of no one. Already in high dudgeon about Livirnea's
mission for the King, she was prevented from venting her spleen on her
recovering husband by his Healers, remaining frustrated and angry.
A combination of what she perceived as unforgivable errors on the part
of her beleaguered servants was all it took. In the middle of a furious
temper tantrum in the kitchens at the manor, she suddenly dropped
like a stone. At first Livirnea felt guilty - not at accepting the
King's invitation, but rather at the thought that her severe injuries
may have played a part in her mother's mood prior to her fatal attack.
Dryly, Tallor assured her this was, unfortunately, not so. Norilka
had remained as self-centered as always, right up until the end. By
custom, the manor house was in mourning, but in truth, the sense
of relief in Norilka's passing made the mood less tense, and Mandor's
recovery seemed to progress even faster. And so Livirnea remained at
Fairwoods.
 

In truth, the lessons with Shannon were good for both girls. The
Queen-to-be was clearly in need of assistance, and Livirnea gained
the sense of purpose she had always sought from the work. "Belabas
the Third was married to Shephala, not Hepha. And his father was

Harath the Second, not 'that old guy who looked like a goat'." She
giggled. "Actually, I guess he *was* an old guy who looked like a

goat, but that is an answer that Ballorca would never accept."

Clad as she preferred in her warrior garb of linen shirt and breeches,
Shannon threw herself to the floor beside Livirnea's couch. She hugged
her knees, looking mournful. "It's hopeless! I studied for candlemarks
and candlemarks, and I still can't keep them all straight. Maybe
Ballorca won't ask any questions about this kind of stuff," she
finished hopefully.

"Well, no one knows exactly what comprises the Ritual of Readiness.
It is a closely guarded secret," Livirnea admitted. "The only people
who would know are Ballorca and the High Priestess -- and they are
certainly not going to tell -- and former queens. And since they're all
dead.... But, I think it is almost certain that there will be some
questions about Realm history, such as reciting the Line of Kings,
or the last ten generations of Dordinal Householders. You have to be
ready."

Shannon looked thoughtful. "You know, I heard a story once about
Sir Winston Churchill - he was a famous guy in my world," she
explained to a mystified Livirnea. "He was supposed to study the
geography of the entire world to past a test. Well, my world is huge,
you couldn't walk across it in a season-cycle. I mean, I'm talking
*big*. Well, Churchill was not a great student, and he knew he
could never do it. So he just plunked his finger down on a map, and
it landed on New Zealand. So he studied New Zealand, and didn't
bother with the rest of the world. And when he took the test, guess
what?"

Fascinated, Livirnea shook her head.

"All the questions were about New Zealand, and he passed the test,"
Shannon said triumphantly. "Maybe that could happen to me."

"I would say that your Sir Winston Churchill was extraordinarily
fortunate," the noblewoman replied dryly. "I think it would be unwise
to rely upon that kind of fortune."

There was a knock at the door, and Lita entered, bearing a tray.
"Time for midday, my ladies. And Lady Livernia, you are to eat, not
just nibble. Orders from Healer Kyla."

On a low table nearby, she spread out the food - hot crusty rolls,
cheese, soup, fruit, and tiny rich cakes - and stepped to the hearth
to begin tea preparations.

"What do you want, Livirnea? Never mind - you'll just play with a
piece of fruit or something." Shannon placed a roll, a small wedge of
cheese and a bowl brimming with woodfowl soup on a wooden
platter and handed it to the recuperating noblewoman. "And I want to
see a clean plate when you're done!" she added with mock severity.

Livirnea took the platter with a sigh. "I never eat this much. I'm
going to get a big as a fieldbeast."

Shannon looked up from her own hearty lunch. "Not much chance of that.
You're way underweight as it is."

"It's sweet of you to care about me, Shannon."

The would-be Queen smiled warmly, then reverted to the brash persona
she was more comfortable displaying. "Of course I care. Without you,
I'd have a snowball's chance in hell of passing this 'Ritual of
Readiness'." She spent the remainder of the repast explaining the
concepts of 'snowball' and 'hell' to the always intellectually curious
Livirnea.

Lita cleared away the lunch things, noting with satisfaction that both
girls had eaten well. Kyla entered as the elven servant left.

"Time for a healing treatment, Lady Livirnea."

"Really, Kyla, I feel well. Can we not miss this one?"

"Very well, prove it. If you can get off the couch and walk over to
me without getting dizzy, I'll consider it." The healer crossed her
arms, waiting.

Livirnea swung her legs over the side of the couch, and sat up.
Carefully, she stood, taking deep breaths. But she got no further
than ten paces before she was panting and swaying on her feet.
Shannon rushed to her side and helped her back to the sofa.

Kyla joined them. "You are getting better, my lady," she assured.
"But these things take time. You were perilously close to taking the
Great Journey. If you're patient, in less than a moon-cycle you will
be completely well."
 

"But we were working- "

"It's okay, Liv," Shannon said. "I have Mage training with Reinald and
my father now, anyway."

"Come back when Kyla's finished and I have rested. I have more plans
for you," she called after her friend's retreating form. "How to serve

tea like a Queen. And you must wear a dress!"

Shannon groaned as she closed the door behind her.
 

*    *     *     *

Margul stood silently surveying the men and women of House Forst
who sat before him in the dining chamber. The great vaulted ceiling
and thick columns made an impressive backdrop for the great
convocation that now held sway on its heavy stone floor. There were
nearly a hundred people present, all of whom he considered trustworthy,
and whose determination to serve him and the family had been proven
to his satisfaction. There were a couple that Charla didn't trust, and
he was more than happy to allow her to watch them. Her intuition,
supported by her magical gifts, had been one of the many things about
her that had terrified the children of the House so many years before.
If she proved correct in her suspicions, he would cast the guilty
parties out of the house, and challenge them to survive the two-day
trip across the deeply frozen lake, with neither supplies nor proper
clothing. If, as he was sure, her suspicions were misplaced, nothing
would be said of the matter.

However, now was not the time for worrying of such things.The news
that Ghalbar brought nearly a moon-cycle before had spread
through the House like wildfire. He knew that it was his time to act
and gain final control over the home-based contingent of his family.
Once done, he would move against his foolish relative, putting her
idiocy and the plans of the current claimant to the title of Dordinal
Householder to an ignominious and, he fully expected, bloody end.
His eyes swept the crowded chamber, settling on Charla's blonde head.
Her deep blue eyes locked with his. If she were nervous at being with
so many of those who had ostracized her in the past, it did not show.
Rather, that anxiety had been replaced with an emotion he could not
name and did not dare to think about at the moment. He smiled at her,
and then straightened, ready to speak his mind concerning what had
passed and what was yet to come.

"Ladies and lords of the House of Forst," he began, his voice
amplified by the room's tremendous natural acoustics. "All of you
know of our cousin Darliss' long-standing short-sightedness. Now she
has gone too far; she has forayed into the land of treachery. And
that is not too strong a word for Darliss' plans. Even now, she plots
to marry a rascal of the House of Dordinal, whose sole intention is
the downfall of our family and the theft of our land. We all know of
Dordinal's heinous acts against House Forst in the past. They are a
heavy weight in our hearts that we carry with us throughout our lives.
We all know that Dordinal thirsts to put an end to House Forst, to
eliminate Forst as surely and as viciously as they have eliminated
so many other Houses. Either Darliss is more ignorant than I have
always thought or she has taken leave of her senses. Or," he thundered
darkly, "Lady Darliss, in seeking her own goals, has traitorously put
the welfare of House Forst behind her.

"Well, I, for one, will not stand idly by while members of my own
family move to stab us all in the back. I will not watch as we are cut
down with a blade that is rusty and heavily poisoned with Dordinal's
age-old hatred of House Forst."

The room exploded into cheers, as many of the younger nobles jumped
to their feet, waving their own well-oiled swords in the air. Margul
waited for the pandemonium to quiet before continuing with his speech.
"I, for one, will not stand idly by while peace-loving beings of all
types are handed over to a pack of thieves whose sole interest is,
and has always been, their own aggrandizement at the expense of all
around them. I therefore propose that we take action to stop the

dastardly plot that our cousin and her puppetmaster have hatched.
A plot that will serve none in this room and which will, ultimately,
only serve the needs and desires of the ravening pack of soul-eaters
in the seat of Dordinal. In doing this, we will have done what is
necessary to protect our future, as well as the lands held by the
village of Cresscreek. Even now as we gather here, Darliss plots
to hand over Cresscreek to Dordinal in her marriage bed."

The room erupted with boos and jeers at the expense of the lady who,
even had she been present, would have been unable to defend herself
from Margul's words.

"We haven't the force here to stop her in her tracks," Margul said
once the room had quieted again, "but we all have friends and
connections who can help us, and whom we must contact in our time
of need. I therefore propose that we all collect the names of warriors
whom we trust and who will serve our banner, in preparation for a
full war council as soon as the roads are cleared, and winter has
loosed her grip on our lands. When the lists have been completed, I
shall take ten brave souls into the winter wilderness and seek out
these honorable men and women. Once our forces are together, we will
strike against our enemies, smiting them to the ground and leaving
nothing but ashes in our wake!"

The cheering that rang through the hall was even more deafening than
before. Groups of excited men and women began forming, each working
to think of respectable warriors on whom the House could call and
who would serve its banner.
 

*     *     *     *

So far, the dinner party was a resounding success. Lady Darliss
leaned back in her throne-like chair, one bony hand clutching a
goblet of wine, the other resting proprietarily on the arm of Lord
Hegan. Servants scurried to clear one course only to bring in the
next, and the next, and Lord Hegan and his contingent of loyal
Dordinal nobles had more than done justice to the feast. Dordinal
may have power, she thought smugly to herself, but Forst is second
to none in the social graces.

The banquet had two purposes - to show the rough Dordinal crowd the
right way to host a party, and to showcase herself as the absolute
leader of House Forst. That her overworked servants cursed her body
and soul to the Dark Creatures, she cared not a whit. That members of
her House such as the young fool Margul and his home-based cabal
protested against her plans showed their foolishness, not hers. That
the House Treasurer had railed against such extravagance as the Realm
tried to rebuild itself meant nothing. Newly purchased jewels, more
fitting for a Queen to wear on the most special of occasions, dangled
from her earlobes and encircled her scrawny neck and wrists. Her gown
was shot through with so many threads of real gold that she could
scarcely stand under its weight without assistance.

But it was worth it. Hegan's eyes had lit up the moment he saw her,
and he had been wonderfully attentive all night.

"Lady Darliss, you do your House proud," he murmured next to her ear.
"And shortly, you will do the same for mine."

She bit back an appreciative titter. First things first, and this was
the opportunity she had sought all night. "True, but when, my Lord
Hegan? When?"

Ah! The opportunity he had sought all night! He patted her hand.
"These bothersome marriage contract negotiations, my dear. They take
so long to work out all the details. What do the negotiators and
scribes know of true love?" He picked up her hand and kissed it.
"If we could only dispense with all the tedious details. But...." The
claimant to Householder of Dordinal shrugged. "From what my people
tell me, it is the Forst negotiator who is holding things up, demanding
unreasonable concessions and guarantees of this and that. I had
thought he was doing so on your orders...." He turned a guileless
face to hers.

Darliss looked stricken. All her plans, her future happiness, were not
going to be undone by some clerk carried away by his own self-
importance. "Under my orders? Certainly not! I am as anxious as you

are to set a wedding date. Never fear, my love. I shall speak firmly to
Lavol in the morning. There will be no more delays, I promise you."

"Ah, my delicate flower! Yet beneath, you have a wit sharper than the
finest blade, and the leadership of a Queen. I knew you would be able
to clear these endless obstacles to our betrothal! Will you dance with
me, my jewel? I want the whole Realm to see you in my arms."

Cheeks flushing pink with pleasure, Darliss took Hegan's hand and
struggled to her feet under the enormous weight of her gown. She
motioned to the musicians, who struck up a lilting ballad. Skillfully,
Hegan guided her around the dance floor, grimacing only slightly
whenever she trod on his boots. What a beautiful, enviable couple
we are, she mused happily.

*    *    *    *

"If the she-beast had stepped on my feet one more time, I would have
grabbed her scrawny neck and wrung the life out of her!" Hegan strode
into his study, unbuckled his sword and tossed himself into an
armchair.

"But you accomplished your goal, Lord Hegan. Surely that is balm
enough for your injured feet."

Hegan smiled. "True enough, Krellian." He took the cup of wine
proffered by his lieutenant and drank deeply from it. "See to it
Shelgar knows that his counterpart, Lavol, will be instructed to
accede to our demands in tomorrow's negotiations. It's time to raise
the stakes. Did you see the jewels draped on the bitch tonight? Forst
evidently has much more wealth than we surmised...."

He tapped absently on the rim of the cup as he pondered. "Shelgar
is to ensure that Forst property comes to Dordinal, should my dear
bride meet with an untimely end. It never hurts to think ahead," he
said reasonably, smiling at Krellian. "Help yourself to some wine!"

When his lieutenant had poured the dark red liquid, Hegan stood next
to him. Turning towards the magnificently carved coat of arms over
the hearth, he held out his cup and cried "To Dordinal! And to our
bright future!"

"To Dordinal!"
 

 End of Chapter Ten
 

THE MAGICIAN 3.5 - THE FIREBRAND
By Matthew Weed and Suzanne Bickerstaffe
(matthew.weed@yale.edu, ecksphile@earthlink.net)
Winter- Spring 2001
 

Disclaimers and acknowledgements in Chapter 00

Chapter Eleven
 
 

Charla stood tall and imposing on the outer walls of the village. The
winter's chill was growing stronger every day, and she took much
pleasure from it. Though she normally despised the cold weather,
this year's winter promised to be a fearsome one, carrying with it
the kind of weather that would detain those whose pursuit she feared
most in Fairwoods Keep. They could do nothing to prevent her from
helping her cousin to begin his campaign against Dordinal from there.
A campaign whose success would give Margul - and the family as well -
greater power in the Realm; power that would translate into increased
protection for her. And that protection would allow her to build the
relationship that she had wanted with him when they were young.

However, before any such thoughts could dominate her attention, she
knew she would have to help her family win its upcoming battles
against Dordinal. Though there was still great wealth within the walls
of this grand fortress, it was not what it had been in generations past.
The number of warriors and mercenaries that Margul could hope to
field would be far fewer than his enemies could retain. They would
need magical help, and she would have to provide it in ways that
would do what was needed, while preventing her from sliding into
the use of the Black Arts that she knew well and abhorred with equal
passion. There were spells of all sorts that might help her, many of
which she had collected in the years after she had been banished
from Fairwoods. That exile had taken her to places that she was
quite sure Reinald had never seen, and probably never heard of.
Recently, she found some ancient books hidden in a magically-sealed
strong box -- hidden by the very Mage who had bespelled the walls
on which she now tread. This discovery, along with her diverse
education and her own creativity  would give her the arsenal of spells
necessary to add  greatly to the effectiveness of those who wielded
more conventional weapons for her House. This thought in mind, she
turned away from the icy world outside, returning to the mix of
magic, politics and strategy she loved as a child, and was

rediscovering with the passion of a mature adult.

*    *    *    *

Dorbo answered the knock at the door of of the Royal Suite, bowing
low when he saw who asked admittance.
 

"Please have a seat by the fire, Your Worship. 'Tis a chill day
today. I will ask the King if he can see you." He withdrew, returning
a moment later to make tea. By the time the kettle sizzled and spat
on the hearth, Andalor joined them. The High Priestess rose, but he
gestured for her to sit.

Once they had steaming mugs in hand, Andalor observed noncommittally,
"You are always welcome here, of course, High Priestess, yet I rarely
have the pleasure of your company."

She inclined her head. "Such is the nature of our work, Your Majesty.
It keeps us busy -- too busy for the simple pleasure of a visit just
for its own sake."

The King frowned slightly. "Then I take it that this is a work visit,
rather than one of pleasure?"

"I always hope it will be both, Sire," the distinguished older woman
said with a touch of humor. "But yes, I admit that my presence here
is more in the nature of my work. As you know, it is the business of
the priests and priestesses to discern the most auspicious time for
the rituals of the Realm to be performed, the time that will most
please the Goddess, and most favor the proceedings."

Andalor nodded. He knew they had been trying to work out the best
time for the wedding, just as they had decided his coronation day and
the day of his betrothal ceremony to Shannon. He had expected a visit
eventually, but surely it was too early--

"Our most gifted members, those who are most intuitive, who have the
clearest vision of the future, have come to me. They say there is no
doubt. In fact, they are in rare accord. While working to find the
best day for your wedding, they saw instead a different vision. They
have divined the day for Lady Shannon's Ritual of Readiness. Since
that must come before the wedding in any case, I thought that you
would want to know."

"I see." Andalor hoped the anxiety he felt did not show. "And that
day is?"

"The morning after the third twin full moon of Planting Season,
Your Majesty."

"You mean Harvest Season."

"Indeed I do not. Planting Season. The Seers' vision was quite
unmistakable."

"Planting Sea- But that's much earlier than we had thought!" Andalor's
mind reeled. Shannon's test would be almost three moon-cycles earlier
than they had planned. Time they couldn't afford to lose. "Are they
certain?"

"Quite certain, Sire. In fact, the chosen day is remarkably bright
with promise, and any other day, both before and for a long while
after, would be quite disastrous. Rarely has a vision been this
unequivocal. For the Ritual of Readiness, that is the only day that
portends well for Lady Shannon.... Your Majesty, I feel your distress.
May I?" She extended a hand out to him.

"Sorry?" Andalor, shrugging off his thoughts, looked up to see the
High Priestess looking at him with a puzzled expression. "Oh! Oh,
no, that will not be necessary, High Priestess. It was just a surprise.
If the Seers say that is the day, then that is the day it shall be.
Please give my thanks to them." Much as he craved the solace and
comfort her touch would have brought, he could not take the chance
that she would somehow discern the source of his unease. He rose,
and the High Priestess stood as well.

"Do me a favor, if you would," Andalor requested, walking her to the
door. "Please allow me to divulge this news. I will see that the
Minister of Protocol is informed."

"But of course, Sire."

"And please come back soon to visit me -- for pleasure the next time."

She smiled warmly. "I will. The Goddess be with you."

Andalor closed the door and leaned against it, shaking. Goddess!
Shannon needed every moment of the time they thought they had.
It was going to be a difficult enough task, even with that amount of
time. But with three moon-cycles less!

Reinald.

Reinald must hear of this immediately. Now, it was only the Mages --
and the Goddess -- who could make his union with Shannon possible.

*    *    *    *

"Reinald! Reinald, I must speak with you immediately. I-"

Andalor's words halted abruptly as he entered the Royal Mage's
chambers. Before him, Hannu and Reinald watched as Shannon, her
brow furrowed in concentration, levitated a teapot over a small table
by the fireplace. Suddenly, she turned towards her fiance, her
expression of delight falling as the teapot crashed to the flagstones.

The Mages sighed in tandem.

"Shannon, you must not let anything interfere with your focus!" Hannu
began, but was cut off by his daughter's exuberant squeal.

"Did you see that, Andy? Did you see what I did?" She ran over to
him and threw her arms around his neck.

He held her briefly, then released her and stood back a bit. As he
intended, she understood his signal to revert to more queenly decorum
and quelled her enthusiasm. "I'm making wonderful progress in my Mage
training, Andalor."

"I know, I saw," he smiled. "Reinald, if I am interrupting...."

"No, no, my boy. Lady Shannon has worked hard and deserves some

respite. That will be all, Shannon. But remember this lesson -- nothing
must interrupt your focus when you are applying your gifts. The
consequences could be far worse than a smashed teapot."

"I understand, Royal Mage. Andalor, is something wrong? The way you
rushed in here...."

The King shook his head, but kept a steady gaze on Reinald. "No, just

a small matter of politics I must discuss with the Royal Mage. Why
don't you do as he suggested and have a rest?"

"All right, I'll go. But I can't rest. Livirnea has plans for me," she
said with dramatically exaggerated dread.

Andalor snorted in amusement. "Oh, I'm sure you'll cope somehow,"
he said, eyes twinkling.

With mock gravity, she assured him, "I'll do my best." Casting a
defiant glance at the Mages, she gave her fiance a quick, unqueenly
kiss and was out the door.

"I think I had better be running along, if you have matters of state
to discuss," Hannu said, gathering up his books and parchment.

"No! Please stay," urged Andalor. "That excuse was for Shannon's
benefit. I would be pleased to have your counsel. Gentlemen, we

have a problem."

Something in the King's tone caught Reinald's attention, sending up
alarm bells. He held up his hand for Andalor to keep silent, then
said, "Pitar, please clear away the rubble and prepare tea. Then you
may have the rest of the afternoon off."
 

The stocky troll did the Royal Mage's bidding swiftly, then left.

"Now, Andalor, you seem upset. What is the problem? Lady Shannon

is doing well in Mage training, despite the little accident you
witnessed. And Lady Livirnea tells me that she is making progress in

her other studies - applying herself, studying hard, and keeping her
temper in check. All appears to be going well, so I am at a loss to
understand your anxiety."

Andalor took a gulp of daytime tea, welcoming the badly needed
restorative kick it gave him. Gazing into the mug, he said, "That
would all be fine, if I had not just had a visit from the High
Priestess. The Seers have set the date for the Ritual of Readiness
- the morning following the third full twin moon of Planting Season."
He glanced up, seeing the awful realization dawn on both Mages.

"Great Goddess! Even a Realm-born queen-to-be would have
difficulty being prepared by that date!" Hannu exclaimed. "Shannon
will never be ready by then!"

Dolefully, the King nodded. "The Priestess said there is no doubt.
That particular day is very promising for Shannon, and all others
after bode badly."

"While I realize we should trust in the Goddess's wisdom, in this
case it would take a tremendous leap of faith," agreed Reinald
dryly. "You were quite correct in keeping this from Shannon. Such
news could well undo much of the progress she has made. One
moment...."

He went to the door and spoke a few words to a passing servant.
Moments later, Tarnor joined them and, mug in hand, settled into
an armchair.

"I am glad you are in Fairwoods right now, Tarnor," the Royal Mage
began. Quickly, he told him of what had transpired.

"All the deities of the Realm would have to work in concert to bring
this one off," the gargoyle Mage observed with his customary good
humor. "It is no coincidence that there are three Mages in the room,
is it, Your Majesty?"

Andalor shrugged disconsolately. "I don't pretend to know what you
can do. All I know is that Shannon and I need your help. We've spoken
of what could happen if Shannon fails the Ritual of Readiness. At the
very least I could be forced to break the betrothal and choose another
bride." He paused to gaze at his companions, his demeanor and tone
deadly serious. "I have done a lot of thinking about this, and have
decided that I will not break my betrothal with Shannon, regardless
of the outcome of the Ritual. If she fails, I will abdicate."

"Surely, Your Majesty, there is no need- "
"Andalor, you can't be serious! You- "
"Damn and blast, Your Majesty! There- "

Andalor's small, humorless smile was tight. "Oh, but I assure you I
shall. I love Shannon, and nothing is going to keep me from marrying
her. There is even precedent -- Volar the Second abdicated when
Doloria failed the Ritual."

Reinald snorted. "But the situation was entirely different. Volar was
not exactly the brightest light in the Realm, and Doloria was dimmer
than a fieldbeast. From what we know of their progeny, Volar did the

Realm a favor by abdicating. Besides, he had twelve brothers, all
smarter, healthier and more capable than he, ensuring the dynasty.

What of the other six dozen or so Kings in our history whose
betrotheds failed the Ritual? None of them abdicated."

"And all of those betrothals were purely political. Those Kings were
probably thrilled when their brides failed and the betrothals were
broken. In fact-- "

"Andalor, you will not abdicate because it will not be necessary for
you to do so," Reinald said with finality. "Shannon will be ready."

"But how?"

"You leave that to us."

"But Reinald, you can't do anything unethical. Somehow Ballorca
would find out. It could mean your head," the King reminded him.

"I am well aware of that, my boy. That's why I asked Tarnor to be
here. He is probably the best Mage ethicist in the Realm. Don't worry.
We will come up with something. Now leave us. You must inform
Minister of Protocol Ballorca of the date of the Ritual, but I would
advise that you also swear him to secrecy about it. It is within your
power to do so. Shannon cannot learn of the nearness of the Ritual
until we can offer her some hope that her task is not impossible. And
that will be hardest on you, Andalor. You must school yourself to hide
your anxiety from her. It is critical."

"I know." The King rose. "Fortunately, we have both been so busy
that we rarely see each other privately -- or as privately as the
chaperones allow," he added dryly. "Very well. But please keep me
apprised of your progress." Feeling a bit more hopeful than when he
had arrived, the King left to meet with Ballorca.

"Well!" Tarnor said, rubbing his ear. "The first thought that occurs
to me is to contact Mage Mulder."
 

Hannu nodded. "I agree. His approach to magic is completely
unconventional. In this case, that might be the best way to come up
with something."

"Then, gentlemen, if you would join me at the table...." The Royal
Mage stood and made his way to the large round table in the center of
the chamber. They pushed three chairs together and Reinald uncovered
the Oracle Cloud. He murmured the Old Realm words of the spell as the
colors in the orb swirled. At length they began to coalesce into a
familiar figure.

"Shit! Reinald, I wish to hell you could do something about this
crystal! Much as I love hearing from you, one of these days I may
end up as a case of spontaneous human combustion!"

"I'm sorry, Mulder," Reinald said blandly. "Is this a convenient
time?"

"I'm not sure there *is* a convenient time for third degree burns,"
Mulder groused, rubbing his chest. "Yes, now is fine. It's three in
the morning and we're in a hotel room, on a case in Georgia. In
fact, we're not far from the swamp where you and Tarnor landed
when you came to this world, Reinald."

"Ugh! Don't remind me!" Tarnor shuddered.

Mulder smiled, then he turned to his left in response to a muffled
question. "It's okay, Scully, go back to sleep. It's just Reinald.
Everything's all right, isn't it, Reinald?"

"Oh, yes. This is more in the nature of a professional conference.
Warrior Healer Scully may go back to sleep with an easy mind."

"Hear that, Scully? Hold on, Reinald, I'm going to go into the
bathroom so we don't disturb Scully. She needs her beauty sleep....
Ouch!" The orb dipped and swirled, and moments later Mulder's image
formed again. He was rubbing his shoulder. "Okay guys, what's up?"

"The date for Shannon's Ritual of Readiness have been advanced
considerably. Without our intercession, I fear her chances of
successful completion are very slim indeed."

"Uh-oh. How's Shannon taking the news?"

Hannu smiled. "We have elected not to inform her. Since your
conversation with her, my daughter's attitude has improved
remarkably and she's making progress."

Mulder nodded. "Good thinking. She'd probably throw the Magestorm of
all time and give up completely. I assume we're going to try to help?"

Tarnor nodded, looking more solemn than usual. "If we can do so
within the constraints of our ethical code. Please understand, no one
wants Shannon to pass the Ritual more than I do," he said earnestly.
"No one wants to see Andalor marry the woman he loves more than I.
Especially after his announcement tonight. But the ethics of Magedom,
the constraints by which we're bound -- I have taken a solemn vow to
abide by them, as we all have, and abide by them we will. Regardless
of how just the cause, I cannot be party to anything that would be
unethical."

"Nor would we want to be, Tarnor," Mulder assured him. "I'm certain
we can come up with something that will leave all of us with clear
consciences. Now, what's this about an announcement?"

Reinald sighed. "Andalor has announced that if Shannon fails the
Ritual of Readiness, he will abdicate rather than break the betrothal."

"Then it looks like we'd better get to work and find something."

"Unfortunately, that is not as simple as it sounds," the Royal Mage
said, shaking his head. "The spell we want probably doesn't exist.
That means we have to conjure up something that is completely new,
effective, and allowed by our rather strict ethical code. Conjuring a
new spell alone, even for the simplest action, is difficult enough.
It can take season-cycles."

"Which we don't have," Mulder finished thoughtfully. "Well, do we have
to reinvent the wheel? Is there a spell we can modify in some way to
have the desired effect?"

Hannu, because of the peculiar circumstances of his very long life,
had the best knowledge of extent spells. "That will take some
research. Offhand, I don't know of any, but that doesn't mean one may
not exist in some dusty old tome or decaying scroll. But there is also
the problem that changing a spell in any way can have undesired
effects -- sometimes disastrous ones. We may be better off to

'reinvent the wheel'."

Tarnor was uncharacteristically serious. "Not to throw a bucket of
cold water on the creative process, but it might be best to first
determine what kind of a spell we can ethically use or create. I
think we can all agree it would be a major breech of ethics to divine
a spell that will simply place the knowledge she needs into Shannon's
mind -- even if such a spell were possible."

The assembled Mages nodded, Mulder joining in somewhat reluctantly.
"So let me understand this. Anything like Reinald's language spell
would be off-limits," he said.

The Royal Mage nodded in agreement. "I'm afraid so. Shannon will have
to learn Old Realm, at least enough to get her through the Rituals in
which she would have to participate as Queen. As we can assume
that that knowledge may be part of the test, then we would be wrong
to use the language spell. No, what we must do is to conjure a spell
which will facilitate her learning, without actually giving her the
knowledge that she will be tested on. Would that pass muster, Tarnor?"

The little gargoyle looked pensive, then flapped his hands in
frustration. "I don't know. It seems reasonable enough, but somehow
I am not completely comfortable with that idea."
 

Mulder's brow knit in worry. Much as he admired Tarnor's integrity,
much as he prized the ethics of his Realm calling, he still felt a
natural drive to protect Shannon, and to help her pass the toughest
test of her life. Probably better than anyone in the Realm, he

appreciated that Andalor's threat to abdicate was a real one. He had
met the boy when he was at his most rebellious, as a runaway to an
unfamiliar world. Andalor had tasted freedom, and it had been no easy
decision for him to go back to the Realm and again assume the mantle
of responsibility he had worn since childhood. Mulder knew it was a
very thin thread which bound the young man to the throne. If he and
Shannon could not marry, Mulder didn't doubt for a moment that Andalor
would carry out his threat to give up his kingdom. And he felt his
fellow Mages really could not conceive of that happening.

"We're just trying to level the playing field, Tarnor," Mulder
reminded him gently. "We're not trying to make Shannon a genius,
nor are we trying to make her the best qualified candidate in the
history of the Realm. All we're trying to do is make up for the
fact that Shannon wasn't born in the Realm, and doesn't have that
sixteen or so years of advantage that any other candidate would have."

Tarnor's ears waggled while he considered this.

Detecting a softening of the gargoyle's position, Mulder pressed his
case home. "To add to that disadvantage, through no fault of her own,
Shannon now has even less time to accomplish the impossible. It's like
the deck has been stacked against her. All I want is to make things
fair."

The gargoyle's expression brightened. "Well, looking at it from that

standpoint... I suppose I would agree."

"So!" declared Hannu. "At least we have a starting point now. Tarnor,
will you help me research the spell books and scrolls to see if we
might get some ideas?"

The gargoyle nodded enthusiastically.

"And Mage Mulder - what can you do in your world?" the Royal Mage
asked.

"Well, I do have some of my spell books at home. I wouldn't be able
to test anything I came up with here, of course. I do have an idea....
Perhaps I could work out the theoretical aspects of it, and then turn
it over to you, Reinald, for the practical aspects and to test and
refine it."

"An idea? What is it?"

Mulder shook his head, smiling. "Let me work on it. Give me, say,
a week in your time, and then contact me again. We'll get Shannon
through this -- somehow."
 

"Please give our love to Warrior Healer Scully," grinned Tarnor.
Continuing in English, he added, "When she has finished with her
'beauty sleep'."

Mulder grinned back. "The Professor's lessons are paying off, I
see. I will do that, Tarnor. It hasn't been that long, but already I'm
dying to get back to the Realm." He sighed. "Unfortunately, duty
calls here. It was great seeing you guys. I'll talk to you in a week."
Mulder's image shimmered and faded.

Reinald stood up and covered the Oracle Cloud once more. "Well,
we have our duties, gentlemen. Let's get to work."
 
 

End of Chapter Eleven
 
 
 

THE MAGICIAN 3.5 - THE FIREBRAND
By Suzanne Bickerstaffe and Matthew Weed
(ecksphile@earthlink.net, matthew.weed@yale.edu)
Winter 2000-2001
 

Disclaimers and acknowledgements in Chapter 00

Chapter Twelve
 

The snow fell lightly around the small party of Forst representatives
who had ridden together for three days along the ancient northward
highway. This road had been the main trade route between Forst and
the trolls' forested home for hundreds of season-cycles. Although
the House had lost much of its power, the lands on either side of the
road were still loyal to it and Margul knew that many warriors could
be recruited here.  Some of his men would continue north and learn
what they could of Dordinal's activities from the trolls and, if
possible, purchase supplies from them as well. Supplies that would be
delivered to Forst's troops once they retook Cresscreek - if they
could.

Margul wanted to accompany his representatives on this journey but
knew that he would have to satisfy himself with talking with the local
lords as he could not be away from the Manor for long. Charla's
presence on the journey also complicated things. Much as he cared for
his cousin and valued her counsel, he didn't want to risk allowing
either Dordinal or the King to know that she now stood with him. Her
presence and the scale of her power would be a shock to the Dordinal
troops at Cresscreek, and possibly at other sites as well. He dared
not risk losing her capabilities to an inquisition order by Andalor.
 

However, she wanted to come, and her presence made their travel
on the winter-blocked roads much easier, and two days shorter
than it otherwise would have been. The spells that she had cast on
the riders who would travel further north would aid them through the

rest of the day. As a result, they could reach the trolls' southern-
most villages by nightfall.

Margul turned to give Ghalbar and their companions his final
instructions, a heavy burden on his mind. "All that you need do is
find out what the trolls have heard and seen over their fall travels,
and ensure that the supplies we need are on hand at Cresscreek.
Pay them what you must in order to ensure their assistance and
silence. We shall set watches for you at the landward stables. We pray
your journey is safe and successful."

"I understand," Ghalbar said. "If the trolls whom I have met at
Fairwoods are home this winter, I will speak with them and hear
their news. Without their help, things will be more difficult, but all
can be accomplished easily enough." He hesitated, then put his thoughts
into words. "Thank you for entrusting me with this mission, my lord. I
will do my best to succeed."

"I know," Margul said with a smile for the younger man. "You have
worked hard to help me plan for what must come, and this mission is
a reward for your diligence. Succeed here, and I will give you further
responsibilities, as your connections to those outside of our lands
are far better than those of anyone else save Charla. Sadly, her
network will be able to help us little in our struggle with Dordinal.
Hopefully it will be of greater use to me when I am called to account
before the King, as I am sure will come to pass."

"Accounts are written by the victors," Ghalbar replied resolutely,
"and I intend to do my best to ensure that we give the first version
of events. Now, however, I must be off if Charla's assistance is to
be of maximum benefit."

"Then go with speed and silence, and find only success on your
journey," Margul said, as he swung up into his saddle. He turned his
horse toward the strongly fortified manorhouse that stood atop the
hill. The main north road curved around it before driving northeast
toward the trolls' forests.

Ghalbar kicked his heels into his mount's flanks and with a wave for
Charla, struck out on his own mission. His heart was warmed by the
friendship of the young nobles whose acquaintance he had renewed
over the past moon-cycles. They now rode with him as he sought
support in the chilly northlands, a company of honorable people in
whose companionship he reveled as he thought of the long road ahead
of them.

He glanced back for one last look at the man whom he had come to
respect more than any other over the past moon-cycles. In doing so,
he happened to see his Householder and the striking woman, side by
side on their horses, hands entwined in the security that few - if
any - would see. Ghalbar smiled to himself. Even when war's dark
clouds gathered on the horizon, love's brilliant light could shine
through them and, he hoped, illuminate the lives of two people who
had not yet basked in its radiance.

*     *     *     *

Once more the Mages sat around the Oracle Cloud. The orb
showcased the image of the one missing from the table, Mage Mulder.

"I hope you have had better luck than we have," Reinald began
glumly. "Hannu had the idea of extrapolating from my language spell,
but we had precious little success."

"That's putting it optimistically," commented Hannu. "You might more
accurately say it was a resounding failure. The second we finished
casting it, both Reinald and I were struck dumb, unable to utter a
coherent word in any language. Thank the Goddess that Tarnor was
not a part of the casting. If he hadn't come along, figured out what
our problem was, and cast the rescue spell which nullified ours, we
would be tongueless still!"

Tarnor blushed a steely gray. "My pleasure. But Mulder, what progress
have you made? And may it please the Goddess you have made some."

"I'm not sure I've made any," he admitted. "Being here in my world
has certain drawbacks, not the least of which is the inability to test
out any of my theories. But my idea centered around my eidetic
memory. If we could impart that same ability to Shannon, it might
solve our practical as well as ethical problems. She would still have
to read the history, language and customs books, and she'd still have
to learn to behave as a Queen. But her memory of those lessons would
be enhanced. What do you think, Tarnor? Would that be ethically
acceptable?"

The gargoyle's heavy brow knit in consideration. "Yes, I believe it
would. There would be no magical implanting of knowledge into her
mind that she had not studied. As you point out, she would have to do
the work, or the spell would be of no advantage to her. Yes, I think
that would be most acceptable," he concluded with a ferocious grin.
 

"Well, we've cleared the first obstacle, then," Reinald declared.
"Now - how do we do it?"

"I've given that some thought as well," replied Mulder. "Though with
the disastrous result of your attempt, Reinald, I can't say I feel too
secure about this."

"At the moment, any idea is better than none," Hannu observed
good-naturedly. "Out with it, lad!"

"Well, I thought... how about mixing portions of Gremelion's ancient
Spell of Mystic Reading with Trahlahl's Spell of Binding?"

The brows of the three Realm Mages shot up in astonishment. They
were silent for a long time.

"Well? Don't leave me hanging here, guys," Mulder said nervously. "I
mean, I know I'm the new kid on the block as far as being a Mage goes,
but I just thought--"

Hannu waved dismissively. "No! No, I realize you are not trying to
show us up." He nodded slowly. "A radical thought, Mage Mulder. I
am amazed you are even cognizant of Gremelion's spell."

In the Oracle Cloud, the young man's image shrugged. "It's on one of
Reinald's old scrolls. I just happened to remember coming across it
when we were searching for a way to defeat the Dark Queen. So...
what do you think?"

"I must admit, I barely remember that spell's existence," said the
Royal Mage. "And I don't think I have cast the Spell of Binding, at
least not in many, many season-cycles. But that is not to say that
it cannot be done. Tarnor?"

"Never heard of the mystical reading spell. But I have cast the Spell
of Binding, and quite recently, too," he responded cheerfully. "If
Hannu can guide us through Gremelion's spell, I think we're in
business."

Hannu smiled. "I believe it is possible, theoretically at least. Not
being gifted with Mage Mulder's memory, I will have to study the
fine points of the spell, but the idea is certainly worth the effort.
Have you given any consideration to the necessary physical
elements, Mulder?"

"I figured, minimally, an old book and a pot of glue, which are the
main physical elements of each spell. Beyond that, it's anyone's
guess."
 

"We can always start with some of the old standbys," suggested
Tarnor. "Luminescence of fireflies, powdered raptor talons, ash from
the burning of old magic scrolls, various charms. And if those don't
work, we can get creative!" He seemed to enjoy the prospect.
 

"We do have one problem, however," Hannu said.

Mulder laughed. "Just one?"

Shannon's father smiled, then sobered. "How do we know when we have
divined a spell that will work? We can't experiment on ourselves - you
know how close to disaster Reinald and I came. We can't experiment on
a lower creature that doesn't have the ability to read. And we can't
experiment on other beings because it would be unethical. Sometimes,"
he continued, a glint of mischief in his eyes, "I almost envy the Black
Mages. They have the advantage of being able to experiment freely,
without such constraints."

Tarnor looked outraged at his companion's comments, until it was clear
that he was being baited. Then he chuckled. "In truth, from a purely
practical standpoint, I must agree. Well, we shall just have to work
on the spell from a theoretical viewpoint, be sure that it cannot harm,
whether or not it can help. Then try it on Lady Shannon."

"Yeah- - let's make sure she won't end up simply sticking like glue to
any book she touches," Mulder joked weakly, not quite able to disguise
his unease for Shannon's safety.

"Do not worry," Hannu kindly replied. "Shannon will be no worse off
for the experience, I promise you."

"I suggest that Hannu and I work on the words of the casting,"
suggested Reinald. "Tarnor, you can work on the physical elements.
We will meet here each day just after the midday meal to discuss our
progress." There were nods of agreement.

"You've done it again, my boy," Reinald continued, smiling. "You have
given us hope just when things looked their darkest."

"Just keep in touch and let me know if it works." Mulder still did not
look entirely happy.

"We will. And give our love to Scully."
 

At the mention of his bondmate, his features brightened. "I will. She's
just visiting her mom, or she'd be here. Andalor okay?"

"Doing well, although I believe he will sleep better once we have
found the spell we're looking for to help Shannon."

Smiling, Mulder said, "He's not the only one. Okay. Same time next
week, everything permitting?"

Reinald nodded. "I'll ask Gunther to work out the calculations."

"Great... see you then." The image faded and the colors swirled, then
were no more.

*     *     *     *

Finally! Ghalbar thought as the lights of the large troll village came
into sight. His party had been on the road for nearly a week and all
were exhausted. They had been told that the trader Krolgar and troll
general Kergidor lived here and, if the necessary arrangements could
be made at all, it was these beings that could do it. They had also
been told that these beings would have information concerning the
families that were supposedly in hiding in the northernmost part of
the Realm. The cold rain had taken much out of all of the members of
his party. Much as he wished that their business could wait until the
next day, Ghalbar knew that the trolls wanted their party dealt with
as quickly and quietly as possible. Though Dordinal could not
communicate with its spies now, they would be able to report back
in the Spring. Since the announcement of Darliss' marriage to Hegan,
many in the Realm did not want to be seen as being overly supportive
of Dordinal's enemies.

"I am certainly as tired as I have ever been," said one of his
companions, a fresh-faced young noble who now sagged in his saddle.

"As am I," Ghalbar agreed, his eyes sweeping the large open space
where they now waited, searching for the beings they were to meet.
After some moments, he saw the squat form of Krolgar, and the somewhat
older but equally corpulent form of Kergidor. The pair moved toward
them, the former dressed in what must be troll finery, while the latter
clanked along in the best armor that the trolls could forge.

Ghalbar swung out of his saddle and moved forward on stiff legs to
meet the troll leaders, his back straightening in recognition of the
importance of his mission as much as it did from respect for the troll
leaders whom he now faced.

"I am Ghalbar of House Forst," he said, bowing first to Kergidor, then
Krolgar, as troll custom demanded.

"Welcome," Kergidor replied. His suspicion at seeing a noble-born
human traveler at this time of year was barely masked behind the
diplomacy that the situation required. "I am Kergidor, chief warrior
of the troll nation. This is Krolgar, one of our leading merchants,"
he said. "I have been told that you have important business to
discuss, and would ask you and your party to join us at the inn so
that we may see if our nation has anything to offer you."

"My companions and I shall be honored to sit at supper with you and
then to discuss our business as best serves our needs and those of
your people," Ghalbar replied, holding to the customary forms that he
had been taught so many years ago when his unusual intelligence
and diplomatic skills had first been recognized.

Kergidor nodded slightly, obviously impressed by the young human
noble's diplomacy if not by his actual presence in the trolls' village.
Few members of the majority of the Noble Houses cared enough about
what they called the "lower species" to bother to learn their customs.
He then gestured toward a large building that Ghalbar now realized
must be the local inn.

"Then join us in our meal, and benefit from the bounty of our lands,"

said the troll general. With a nod to the others, he led the way
toward the warmth and shelter that the inn promised.

*    *

Nearly a candlemark later, his feet warmed by the great fire in the
inn's main room, Ghalbar sighed, and pushed his plate away, unable
to consume another mouthful. The rest of his party had given up far
earlier, but Ghalbar knew well that one of the ways in which trolls
proved their appreciation of the hospitality that they had been shown
was to make a particularly noteworthy dent in the food that they were
offered. He only hoped that he wouldn't become ill before the
negotiations were completed.

"You have shown great sensitivity to our customs," Kergidor said from
his position at the head of the table. "I am both impressed with your
respect for us, and your ability to eat like a troll!"

"My thanks to you, General," Ghalbar replied, "however, it is your
people who have shown us respect and honor by offering us such a
fine feast and commodious lodgings. I thank you for both, and hope
that your people will see such bounty as to make the fare that you
have served us pale in comparison to the end of next year's harvest."

"Here, here!" cried the rest of Ghalbar's party from their positions
around the table.

"My thanks for your good wishes," Kergidor replied. "But now, we must
discuss the things that you have come to ask of us, and see whether we
can do the business that you seek to complete."
 

"My mission here is two-fold," Ghalbar said. "First, I am here to
purchase supplies for an attempt to take Cresscreek back from the

Dordinal rabble that occupied it last fall. Second, I wish to ask if
you have knowledge about the old Houses whom, it has been said, dwell
in the far north."

"Why not use your own supplies for your attack against Darliss's
holdings?" Krolgar asked, for the first time taking a major role in the
conversation that had flowed around the table.

"We are, Merchant Krolgar," Ghalbar said. "Unfortunately we don't have
the food and some of the materials that we will need to equip a force
of the size that we hope to put into the field. Since my cousin Margul
feels that Darliss's actions are treasonous to our house, he has chosen
to try to retake Cresscreek before Dordinal's hold on it becomes
unshakeable."

"Good strategy," Kergidor commented thoughtfully before sitting back,
his chair groaning under his massive weight.

"Yes," Krolgar agreed. "We have the supplies that you need, but you
must understand that they will come at a high price, given the
legality of Dordinal's claim to the property that you want to retake."

"I understand," Ghalbar said. "However, I would point out that should
Dordinal gain control in Cresscreek, they will be one step closer to
choking your main southward trade route and setting high tolls on it.
I would think that such a situation would be intolerable to your
people."

"It would make things more difficult, but as my wren-brother Larka is
mayor in Hotspring, I'm sure that we will be able to make some kind
of arrangement with Hegan."

"Possibly," Ghalbar replied. "But I wouldn't want to bet my future on
such a hope, given Hegan's history of intolerance toward your species.
As I ask only for supplies, and can pay for them in gold, you lose
nothing on this deal, whichever House wins the forthcoming war."

"Not necessarily so," Kergidor said, "but any insult done Dordinal by
our selling you supplies would be more than overcome by Hegan's
pleasure at seeing Margul run through with a sword. So, I think it
safe from the military standpoint to offer you what you need. Of
course, Krolgar has final say on any such arrangement from the
standpoint of our trade relations with our southeastern neighbor."
 

"How much do you seek and how much would you be willing to pay?"
Krolgar asked, recognizing that the profit to be made from Forst's
internal politics could be great. Indeed, it might even replace the
losses that he had taken when the last caravan of the northward
march was attacked and utterly destroyed nearly a moon-cycle
previously.

"We are interested in 150 swords, 50 shields, and 500 light spears.
We also seek enough food to supply the needs of two hundred human
warriors for a period of twelve days."

"Such supplies will not come easily,"

"I am prepared to offer 3,000 silver and 2,000 gold pieces for what I
seek," Ghalbar said.

"It will cost you at least a thousand more in both gold and silver,"
came Krolgar's counter-offer.

"3,500 silver and 2,200 gold," Ghalbar replied quickly.

"3,700 silver, and 2,700 gold."

"3,650 silver and 2,400 gold but only if you add transportation into
the bargain," Ghalbar replied.

"3,600 silver and 2,600 gold with transportation as part of the
bargain and you will have an arrangement."
 

"I will consider this bargain complete if you will accept a price of
3,600 silver and 2,500 gold," Ghalbar said knowing that they were
now closing in on an arrangement.

"Very well," Krolgar sighed, seemingly distressed at the hardness of
Ghalbar's bargain. However, in reality, he knew well that a great
profit was being made, and was willing to give a little extra,
considering the Forst noble's respect for his people's customs.

"On the matter of the northern houses," Kergidor said, retaking his
place as lead negotiator, "We have only marginal contact with them,
but can assure you that they do exist. They have suffered greatly from
raids by others even more distant from Fairwoods than they are. If
you can promise Forst's support in their hope to reestablish
communication with His Majesty, I believe that you might succeed in
convincing them to ally themselves with you.

"You will, of course, have to send a representative to speak with them
on this. The way is incredibly dangerous in the best of weather, and
you will have to take a Mage to guide you if you hope to survive the
journey now. You will have to pay one of our local Mages to make the
trip with your representative. Given the dangers, the trip will be

neither easy nor inexpensive. "

"Very well," Ghalbar said with a sigh, wishing now that Charla had
continued on with them in spite of the dangers to herself and to their
House. "As lead of our party, I shall go and speak with them. I would
ask that my companions be allowed to stay here until my return,
when we will depart and return to Forst lands."

"I'm sure that the inn-keeper will be pleased of their patronage,"
Krolgar replied for the middle aged troll who had been quietly
observing the proceedings.

"That I shall," he said, bustling up to offer the young men and women
of House Forst his best rooms.  The bargaining went quickly, and
within half a candlemark, all were abed, preparing for the day to come.
 

End of Chapter Twelve
 
 
 
 

THE MAGICIAN 3.5 - THE FIREBRAND
By Suzanne Bickerstaffe and Matthew Weed
(ecksphile@earthlink.net, matthew.weed@yale.edu)
Winter-Spring 2001

Disclaimers and acknowledgements in Chapter 00

Chapter Thirteen
 

"And Lord Maalfees, how is your lady wife?"

Lita, playing the part of the Householder, threw herself into her
role. "Very kind of you to ask, I'm sure, Your Highness. Fit as a
soul-eater, she is. Why only yesterday, I caught her fiddling with
the codpiece of one of my young proteges."

Shannon and Livirnea exploded into a fit of giggles. Finally, Livirnea
wiped her eyes and declared, "Lita! If you want to help Shannon
learn the social graces, you have to stop doing that!"

The young would-be Queen snorted. "I don't know. This is the first
lesson I've really enjoyed."

Lita sighed. "I am sorry, my Lady. But they're such a contemptible
bunch, I can't help myself."

Livirnea rolled her eyes. "All right. Would it help if you changed
roles, perhaps? Can you think of a noble that you could play who
would not be quite so tempting to lampoon?"

The elven servant's brow's knit in thought. "Well, there's your
father of course. But-- I know! How about Prince Mavor?"

"Excellent! And Shannon, this will give you an opportunity to test
your knowledge of elven language and history. Very well, let's start
again."

At the noblewoman's nod, Shannon spoke the traditional Elvish words
of greeting, and inquired if the 'Prince' would join them for tea.

Livirnea looked on approvingly. Shannon had made good progress. She
took to the elven language surprisingly easily, though she still had
her problems with the pronunciation of the guttural troll tongue, and
with the intricacies of the unique gargoyle grammatical structure.
She was approaching the level of competence in those languages that
any young noblewoman who would be Queen would have. Unfortunately,
Old Realm, the language in which she would have to be fluent in order
to take part in the diverse royal rituals, was much more difficult for
her. While she was becoming more conversant with Realm history, the
myriad aspects of the culture, customs and traditions still posed
problems. Not a lesson went by that Shannon did not trip up on some
minor, but telling, point or other. Once it might be forgetting to sit
down so guests could seat themselves. Another time it might be an
inappropriate informality of speech, and another it might be an
awkward movement or omitted phrase in a traditional verbal exchange.

Such gaffes frustrated and frightened Livirnea, because she had not
anticipated them. In every case they had been small but noticeable
mistakes, mistakes a Realm native never would have made. Even worse,
they had come up in the course of a perfectly normal exchange of
words or custom that the young noblewoman took for granted. She
simply hadn't recognized the dangers until it was too late. Thank the
Goddess there were still many moon-cycles to drill her in what must
now become her way of life. Shannon was doing well, but they would
need every candlemark of the time available to them.

"Well done!"

The three women around the tea table jumped, and turned toward the
door of Livirnea's beautifully appointed quarters. King Andalor and
Reinald stood observing, the old Mage nodding happily. Instantly, the
women got to their feet.

"Andalor! What a surprise!" Shannon glided to her fiance's side,
dropped a graceful curtsey, and took him by the hand. "How long have
you been here?"

The young King smiled. "Long enough to be very impressed with your
progress."

"Very impressed, indeed," agreed Reinald. "Why, you walk like a
Queen now, Shannon!"

"I have Livirnea to thank for that. And Lita's been helping too! Liv
had this great idea that I might learn better in realistic situations,
so Lita is the mystery guest of the day. Today she's been Prince
Mavor."
 

"That is an excellent idea. And, 'Prince Mavor', what report have you
for me?" the King asked, his purple eyes twinkling.

"Lady Shannon will speak Elvish as well as I do soon. She has a real
knack for it, she does. And in our discussion of elven history, she did
well. Got the name of Prince Mavor's great great grandfather wrong,
but otherwise good. Aye, quite proud of her, I am."

"Thank you, Lita. We can always count on you."

"That you can, Your Majesty. I'll do anything to see you two happily
married," she declared, looking the King straight in the eyes.
"Anything." She paused, smiling mischievously. "Though you might
not have been thanking me a candlemark ago, when I was doing my
impression of Lady Darliss of Forst. It's very popular down in the
kitchens."

Reinald chuckled as Andalor smothered a grin. "Some people just beg
ridicule, Lita. Though if you ever quote me, I'll deny it."

"It'll be our secret then, Sire. Now, I must be off - I have many
duties before I'm done for the day. Tomorrow afternoon, as usual,
Lady Livirnea?"

"Please. If you have time."

As the elf left, the King exclaimed, "Liv! I'm so sorry, I forgot
you've been standing all this time. Please, sit."

Instead of seating herself, she walked to meet him and took his free
hand. "Nonsense, Andalor. I've been pampered long enough. I am well
and strong again, as Kyla promised."

While the others seated themselves around the tea table, Shannon set
to brewing a fresh pot. "I can't tell you how happy I am to hear that,
Liv," the King said fondly. "Your father should be so proud of you.
Coming here, and doing what you are for Shannon, for me, and for
the Realm is a tremendous service, one we will be hard-pressed to
repay. That you were injured is bad enough; if it had cost you your
life, I never would have forgiven myself."

"Well, I'm fine now." Livirnea affirmed, patting his hand. "Besides, I
fully accepted all the possible risks. And for once I feel useful,
which is the best medicine of all."

Shannon brought the tea to the table. "I'll pour."

Andalor's brows rose in surprise. Not only was she pouring, but doing
so beautifully, a far cry from the slap-dash hospitality she would
have meted out only a few moon-cycles before. She sat on the edge of
her chair, her spine ramrod-straight, sipping at her tea daintily. But
beneath that ladylike exterior, he knew beat the heart of a warrior, a
strong woman upon whom he could count for love and support. He felt
tears sting his eyes. His Shannon. Goddess, he was fortunate.

"So tell us of the horrors of kingship, Andalor," Livirnea asked,
smiling. "What dangers lurk?"

He returned her smile, but it was a grim one. "For a starter, my
marriage to Shannon is not the only one which occupies my thoughts
these days. A catastrophe is in the making."

"Lady Darliss and Lord Hegan?" guessed Shannon.

He nodded. "Even in the dismal history of the Noble Houses, this is a
new low. I simply cannot believe House Forst has been so ill-advised
as to allow this marriage to take place. As you know, I see all the
contracts of marriages between the Houses. This one-- ! It gives
Dordinal everything, absolutely everything. I will be surprised if
House Forst survives at all after this marriage takes place. The
carnage wrought by the Dark Queen may not yet be over. So many
Householders and leading nobles were killed in the collapse of the
Great Hall. Not that they were an easy bunch to deal with, but to have
an imbecile like Darliss in such a position is insanity. This marriage
will totally upset the equilibrium of the Houses, with Dordinal
emerging much stronger than the others. And Lord Hegan is both
ambitious and cold-blooded. He will waste no time in making use of
his advantage."

"But Andalor, can't you stop it?" his fiancee asked.

Reinald replied. "Unfortunately not, my dear. You see, by our
traditions, the King must be informed of House marriages, but he
does not specifically have the power to deny them."

"That would take a special meeting of the Council of Representatives,"
explained Livirnea. "Although many of the Houses may be against this
particular marriage and see the dangers in it, they also know it would
not be in their interests to set a precedent by stopping it. That only
occurred once, many generations ago. A terrible war broke out
as a result, leaving the Realm in ruins, most of the Houses without
leaders, and the King who called the Council to deny the marriage
dead by assassination."

"Goddess! Andalor, don't-- "

He took Shannon's hand and stroked it. "Don't worry. I have no
intention of calling a Council. We can only hope that something happens
so their marriage never takes place. A lover's spat, perhaps."

Livirnea noticed her friend was still in full 'Queen mode'. "Shannon,
you've worked hard today. Just relax and be yourself now."

The girl smiled a bit self-consciously. "You know, it's funny, but it's
almost becoming natural now. I don't even have to think about it."

Andalor and Reinald traded glances again. "I'm so happy to hear you
say that, Shannon. I have some news for both you and Livirnea."

His fiancee tensed. "Good news? Or bad?"

"Both."

"All right," she sighed. "Hit me with the bad news first."

"The High Priestess informed me that the date for the Ritual of
Readiness has been set. As you probably know, the Seers choose the
dates of important occasions based on their visions." He paused. "You
may not believe in such things, and there are certainly times that I
question if I do, but that is our way."

She nodded warily.

"Well, apparently the day that most favors your passing the Ritual of
Readiness is a bit sooner than we were expecting." The King studied
his teacup diligently.

Across the table, Reinald's eyes were closed and his lips moved
silently with the words of a spell that would reinforce the shield
around Shannon, should her emotions get the better of her.

The girl did not fail to notice. "Andalor, what exactly is your
definition of 'a bit sooner'?" she asked evenly.

"Uh... three moon-cycles?"

Later, Reinald could not decide who gasped louder in dismay,
Shannon or Livirnea.

"Three. Moon-cycles. That's your idea of 'a bit'?" Shannon's struggle
to control her emotions -- panic, self-doubt, resentment -- was clear to
everyone in the chamber.

"Andalor, I know we have no choice in the matter, and I'm sure the
Seers believe what they're doing, but... have you lost your mind?"
Livirnea took an unsteady breath. "I apologize. Look, Shannon has
made wonderful progress and has worked herself hard, harder than I
have ever seen anyone work. But this is just not fair! We needed every
moment as it was, but now-- !"

The King raised his hand. "That's the bad news. And believe me, I do
not take it lightly. But I said there was good news, as well."

"Ballorca's dead?" Shannon joked darkly.

"Not that good," Andalor admitted, smiling. "But nearly. Reinald?"

"Well, my dear, your father, Mage Mulder, Mage Tarnor and I have
been working on something to help. A spell. Actually, it was Mulder
who had the initial idea. Since he's a bit handicapped by his world,
we have developed it further. The spell, assuming it works correctly,
would give you what Mulder and Andalor were gifted with naturally -

an eidetic memory. You would still have to read the history books
and so on, but you would be able to remember perfectly everything
that you had read. It won't help you learn our traditional dances, or
the troll tongue, since that is not a written language. But it will
help you to learn anything that's written down. The Old Realm
language, the rituals, our history and customs...."

Trembling, Shannon rose. "Just... give me a minute." She paced
slowly over to the windows across the chamber. As she stared out
at the bucolic scene before her -- fieldbeasts happily munching at
haystacks, younglings bundled up against the cold playing hoopball --
her mind raced. Suddenly, she turned. "This spell -- is it ready?"

"Nearly," replied Reinald. "Tarnor wanted to make some adjustments
to the material aspects. But it should be ready in a day or two."

She rejoined them at the table, pulling her chair closer to Andalor's.
He grasped her hand in his, shocked at how cold it was. She was badly
shaken, he thought, far more shaken than her restrained behavior would
suggest. He had never been more proud of her.

"You said 'assuming it works correctly'. What precisely did you mean
by that?" she asked quietly.

Again, Andalor and the Royal Mage exchanged glances. "We haven't
tested it. We're not even sure it can be tested," Reinald admitted.

Shannon's expression was distant as she considered. "So, if it
doesn't work correctly, it could, for example, wipe my memory clean
of everything I've learned so far."

"But that won't hap-- " Andalor began, but the Royal Mage broke in.

"No, my boy, she's asked an excellent question and deserves an
honest answer. Which is, my dear," he said, turning to her, "that
we don't know. Wiping your memory clean is certainly not a result
that I would expect, but I honestly cannot tell you that there is no
possibility of that happening. All new spells, even perfectly composed
and flawlessly cast, involve an element of risk. I believe that risk to
be small, but I could be mistaken."

Slowly she nodded, and stood up. "I have to think about this. I know
you're all trying to help, and I am grateful. But if I lose what I have
learned, what I've worked so hard for, it's a certainty that I will
fail the Ritual of Readiness. I'm not sure I want to risk that."

"I'll walk you to your quarters," Andalor said quietly.

Reinald stood, approached Shannon and embraced her warmly. "My
dear, no matter what you decide, in my books you have already passed
the Ritual. This evening, you have behaved as a true Queen in every

way."

Shannon's smile did not reach her eyes, which were clouded with worry.
"Thanks, Reinald."

His arm around her shoulders, Andalor led Shannon slowly down the
length of the chamber and closed the door softly behind them.

"Livirnea, you have been extremely quiet," Reinald observed. "What
say you?"

"Come, let us get more comfortable." She gestured toward the sofa,
and they sat down together. "I must tell you, I am torn. Shannon has
applied herself and is doing wonderfully. She has already accomplished
so much. But every time I dare to hope that we will be ready, I find
there is some small thing I have not thought to teach her which trips
her up. I am frightened that something of the sort will happen during
the Ritual -- that she will fail and it will be my fault."

"Oh, my dear-- "

"No, Royal Mage, let me finish. Because of that fear, I would take
comfort in the spell that you Mages have composed. Surely, most
of our customs and traditions have been recorded in some tome or
other, and Shannon would not be forced to rely only upon me.
Especially now that the preparation time has been so severely
curtailed." She laughed humorlessly. "I suppose, in that, I am being
selfish. But I can also well understand Shannon's fear. If the
unthinkable happened and the spell made things worse instead of
better, there would be no hope at all of her passing the Ritual." She
sighed. "I do not envy Shannon her decision. I doubt she will get
much rest tonight."

Reinald nodded. "I know, and I agree. The other Mages and I have
agonized over this, repeatedly going over every word of the spell,
looking for traps, making sure that the meaning is unambiguous.
That is one of the greatest risks in spell composing. Tarnor has
even started devising a 'rescue' spell, so in case the worst does
occur we have a means of undoing it. But the completion of that
spell is many weeks off, and there is no guarantee that that would
be effective either."

"Royal Mage, tell me honestly - what do you believe are the chances
of success with your spell?"

"As the Professor would say, better than average. Perhaps as high
as seventy five percent. But-- "

"But that still leaves a one in four risk of disaster," Livirnea
concluded.

"Regrettably, that is so. Shannon will have to decide for herself if
the risks are worth it. We can do nothing but support her decision."

Livirnea looked grim. "And deal with the consequences."

*    *    *    *

The negotiations had been going on for nearly three candlemarks, and
Randock was pleased with Margul's plans. However, his House had
never been known for its haste where agreements were concerned,
and Randock felt it was his duty to his family and its supporters
to maintain this honorable tradition. Unfortunately, doing so was a
strain on the negotiators. He knew that he would soon have to agree
to the plan or risk serious diplomatic problems with the high House
at Forst. However, he could afford to play out the string a little
further; he wanted to test the younger man's diplomatic skills. Not
only would such skills be important for the building of the coalition
that Margul wanted to throw against Dordinal, but also in maintaining
it once victory had been achieved.

"No matter how many men and how much money the others and I give
you, Dordinal will be able to outmatch you by at least five to one,"
Randock said, focusing on the one part of the plan that caused him
true discomfort.

"True," Margul admitted. "But you know as well as I do that they will
not be able to concentrate their resources against us unless leaks
occur. Particularly when those resources are being expended in useless
feuding amongst a number of well-matched and equally foolish
pretenders. Only Hegan poses a threat, and by destroying his position
at Cresscreek, we will weaken him sufficiently to guarantee years of
war within Dordinal."

"And you suspect me of contemplating such a leak?" Randock demanded,
honestly angered at the younger man's presumption of his disloyalty.

"Actually, no," Margul replied. "Your family has been loyal to mine
for longer than any other, and you were the first from the outside to
come to me and demand that I take control at Forst. But as you know
well, rumors move faster than a Mage through a gate, and we daren't
take such chances."

"True," Randock agreed quickly. Secretly, he was pleased by the young
noble's wisdom. "But I am still concerned by the comparatively limited
strength of your forces."

"As I would be, save for the fact that we have access to some...
unusual capabilities... that will strengthen my forces greatly,"
Margul replied, somewhat uncomfortably. "I will not speak further of
them, other than to say that as my liege, you need recognize that it
doesn't benefit me to have your House weakened by losses."

"Not necessarily," Randock snapped. "After all, if you had direct
control over my lands, your base would be greatly strengthened."

"Only if I could control that base. If I lose in the forthcoming
campaign, it is likely that you will be given the option to join
Dordinal instead, should you desire such a fate."

"No!" the old noble said quickly. "That fate I would not wish on my

worst enemy."

"Then we are agreed on a plan?" Margul asked.

Randock considered for a moment. He had put himself in the position

of having to accept Margul's guarantee, much as he would have liked
to know more of these special capabilities. "Yes, we are agreed."

"Then I wish you the best in collecting your resources," Margul said.
As he rose, the woman who had accompanied him moved to stand
beside him. "I shall look forward to accompanying your contingent into
battle at the end of the third twin full moon of planting season."

"As you say," Randock said, rising to see them from his study. He
bowed to Margul, and then turned to his companion, ready to give her
the same obeisance. His eyes widened in shock. While his back was
turned, her clothing had shifted in aspect from that of a noblewoman
accompanying her Householder on a long and cold journey, to that of
a powerful Mage, whose cloak was nearly as dark a blue as that of
the Royal Mage Reinald. Before he could say anything to her about
this fantastic change, her aspect shifted back to that of the wealthy
noblewoman. The small smile with which she greeted him when he
bowed over her hand made it clear that the change had been
intentional. It was as much a guarantee of Margul's resources as it
was a warning of the consequences, should he speak of what he had
just seen, and the deliberations which had gone before.

"My lady," he said quietly, bowing deeply before her.

"Sir," she replied as she stepped through the door, neither Margul nor
the servant accompanying them aware of the exchange that had just
occurred.
 

End of Chapter Thirteen
 

THE MAGICIAN 3.5 - The Firebrand
By Suzanne Bickerstaffe and Matthew Weed
(ecksphile@earthlink.net, matthew.weed@yale.edu)
Winter-Spring 2001
 

Disclaimers and acknowledgements in Chapter 00
 
 

Chapter Fourteen

The first rays of sun glinted through heavily frosted windows as the
Mages sat in front of Reinald's hearth. Fatigue showed on their
faces, in their reddened eyes, in  the slump of their shoulders. Ever
since Shannon had been told of the possibility that could bring
success or ruin, they had worked ceaselessly on every facet of their
creation, trying to foresee any problems, making it as safe and
effective as possible.

"We have done everything we can," Hannu commented wearily. "Now it
is up to Shannon."

Indeed, the teenager had yet to make a decision. It had been three
long days and nights since she was told of the shortened preparation
time, and the spell that could mean everything. Days of work and
worry, nights of tossing and turning for everyone involved. The Mages
did not even look up as Lita entered to set breakfast out on the
refectory table.

"I agree," said Reinald. "I can well understand Shannon's reluctance.
However, at this point, we are losing valuable time. Lady Livirnea has
noted scant progress in the last few days. It is no wonder -- the child
has gotten little sleep, has thought of little else, so consumed is she
with making the right decision. But she will have to make it soon."

In the manner that