Chapter 26

If nothing else had yet humbled the former Noble Lord, one look at the esteemed meeting place Rennis had procured would have done it.

The Province which Tarras had governed before the Inonni came had a fine auditorium. Cavernous but not intimidating, decorated but not ostentatious, and comfortable but not lavish. The acoustics were perfect, allowing one to stand upon the stage and project his voice to the very back row with little effort.

Tarras had used that chamber on many occasions to address the Carolas court, or to hold marriage ceremonies for the lesser Nobles. A very fine winter solstice celebration had been held one year when the harvest had become plentiful again after a decade of drought. He held meetings with other Nobles there only when forced, as they were bound to tell him it was not large enough, not decorated enough, or not lavish enough.

And yet, as he looked at the weatherbeaten barn, the old auditorium seemed overbearing.

He had watched from a distance as people trickled in. They arrived in all manner of mundane means, the very best of which would have been looked down upon by the lowest of the former Nobles. And yet the moment they stepped out and their transport wheeled, trundled, or rattled away, they regained all sense of privilege they once had and likely still believed they had.

They strutted forward as if this were any other meeting of their peers. They ignored the tattered and threadbare nature of their finery, as if believing the sheer radiance of their presence would compensate.

Tarras felt nothing but disgust and despair. He was tempted to walk up to them and startle them out of their complacency by forcing them to recognize him in his simple frock, only a bare step above what most of the peasants wore. Despite Rennis' pleas, he had refused to wear any finery of his own.

Tarras uttered a slow sigh. The Farviewing pearl felt like a lead weight in his pocket. He had respected Rennis' plea; he had not contacted the Mage Guildmaster.

He finally headed to the back of the barn when the stream of arrivals thinned. The door was splintered, the wood faded to dried gray, and the hinges squealed when he pulled it back. The meager flame behind the broken glass of an oil lamp flickered in the breeze until the door creaked shut behind him. Opposite the door, a heavy purple curtain hung across the opening to a makeshift stage constructed by local hired hands. They had had barely enough platinum between them to pay for the work.

Tarras heard the babble of conversation and occasional laughter. His anger and frustration surged, despite the realization it was not his place to wish misery upon them. Still, he felt a more solemn attitude was appropriate, for that would have told him they had grasped the gravity of the situation and realized their days of lavish parties and fine dining were over.

Tarras approached the curtain and grasped the edge, his arm tensing for a moment. Instead of pulling it back as he had intended, he nudged it to one side just far enough to peek past it.

Tarras had expected to see nothing more than the inside of an old barn, the rafters still stuffed with moldy hay, sunlight peeking through the warped boards of the roof, the floor stained with the dried remains of animal dung. Instead, bright banners and gold-trimmed tapestries festooned the walls. The simple oil lamps had been replaced with shiny brass or silver lanterns. A red carpet stretched down the center aisle. The edges of the stage had been dressed in lace and velvet.

Nothing matched. No two tapestries followed the same artistry. No two banners had the same color scheme. No two lanterns looked alike. A closer look at this garish potpourri of leftover riches would expose the deception and reveal the frayed threads, the chipped porcelain, or the dented metal. Yet it mattered not, as the symbolism was important; it symbolized they had not learned a damn thing.

Tarras stepped back and turned towards the door, his hand reaching for the Farviewing pearl. He stopped short of the threshold when Rennis appeared outside.

"So you are here," Rennis said.

Tarras removed his hand from his pocket. Rennis' eyes flicked to it and narrowed. "Yes, I am here," Tarras said in a low voice.

"And you still insist on wearing--"

"No."

Rennis paused, looking genuinely surprised.

"I will look too out-of-place. I would not appear as any sort of leader they would wish to follow."

Rennis let out a relieved sigh. "Thank you for finally coming to your senses. Come on, I have your things still laid out back at--"

Tarras raised a hand. "But you will allow me a few moments of reflection before I begin."

"What?"

"I have much to say which must be delivered in as few words as possible if I wish to keep their attention."

Rennis nodded slowly. His eyes flicked to Tarras' pocket again. "And there would be no other reason for your delay?"

Tarras did not speak; his stony gaze was his answer.

Rennis' jaw tightened. "Very well. Do what you must. But be aware that everything has repercussions."

"Believe me," said Tarras in a tired voice. "No one knows that more than I."

Jollis stood once more in the austere reception chamber of the Holy Elder. The guards had allowed him inside upon sight without a word, and Jollis had not dared ask if he were expected. He had yet to announce himself, though it was likely the Elder knew he was there.

He had trouble raising his eyes to the tapestries, as if he did not consider himself worthy to gaze upon even these imperfect representations of the gods. Yet again, he longed to contact Kyllos for advice. He shook his head. He would contact his mentor when he had answers and not more questions.

His head jerked up as the curtain was suddenly swept aside, and Yurton stood in the doorway. The idea the Holy Elder was indeed only a man suddenly appeared in the forefront of Jollis' mind. Whether this was supposed to inspire relief or anxiety he did not know, but the thought itself was significant. Only when Yurton stepped into the room and his silver-trimmed robes swept about his feet did Jollis remember his place. He dropped to one knee and spoke the obligatory prayer, yet with little conviction.

"I accept your honored blessing," said Yurton, his voice even. "Now, rise, and face me as my equal."

Jollis bolted to his feet as Yurton still spoke and was met by an expression of mild surprise which settled back into its usual subdued pleasantness in the space of a breath. Yurton laced his fingers together tightly upon his belly and gave Jollis a small smile. "I anticipated you would honor me with your presence this morning, Wanderer. What may I say to help ease your mind?"

At first, Jollis dared to believe something of the divine existed in this man, until he realized a more mundane reason would suffice to explain Yurton's supposed precognition. As he turned more fully towards the Elder, his ankle twinged. The Healer had attended to it, but he had been advised to allow a full day for complete recovery. It was time he did not have.

"You were told of my potential visit?" Jollis asked.

"When you did not attend to the task which I had set for you, I was naturally curious, but Verano cleared up the matter at once."

Jollis did not respond, sensing there was more.

Yurton smiled. "It is in our best interests that you are comfortable with any task we ask of you. I would be most happy to offer counsel before you set about your latest one."

Jollis noted the Elder's choice of words. No matter what the outcome of this meeting, he was expected to carry out his mission. "I grow concerned, Holy Elder Yurton, that we approach the matter of the Rogue Mages without considering all alternatives."

"Ah, I see," Yurton replied with a nod of his head. "I can assure you, Honored Wanderer, that all of your concerns have already crossed my own mind during many evenings of deep meditation."

"And yet I am still asked to perform an act of kidnapping."

Jollis suppressed the urge to rush an apology to his lips, as his words were tantamount to an accusation. Yet Yurton seemed unperturbed. "When all things are considered, Jollis, it is the wise man in the end who accepts his place and does what is required for the greater good. Only the fool waits and hopes for greater wisdom where there is none."

Jollis tilted his head. He had never heard that one. All had been devised and recorded by the first Elder of the Holy Order during the Inonni Enlightenment. While the Holy Order technically had the privilege to invent new quotations, it had never been exercised.

Few could memorize all one thousand quotations, but Jollis had managed it. Yet he would rather believe the fault was in himself. Otherwise, either this Elder felt he could invent new ones to suit him, or he gambled Jollis had not memorized all of them and would assume this was one he did not know.

Neither alternative was promising. The former suggested unwarranted pride, the latter deception. Neither were traits associated with the Holy Order. Yurton seemed even more so like nothing more than an ordinary man.

"Is there anything else I can assist you with, Wanderer?" said Yurton in a pleasant voice.

Jollis forced a smile. "I am experiencing a sense of irony, Holy Elder. When I first met you upon my arrival, I was unsure of my path. It appears it has been laid out before me."

Yurton paused, and for a moment Jollis believed the implication of his statement had come through. The Holy Order was not a ruling body. They did not dictate. They espoused their teachings, and the Inonni followed out of a mutual desire to remain an Enlightened and civilized society. Yet Jollis' simple statement had accused Yurton of betraying this central philosophy.

"Then it is well and good you came to me, Wanderer," said Yurton. "If all you needed was clarification."

"I will attend to my mission by the midday meal," Jollis said. It was not something he wanted to say, but he had no further options.

"Very good, Honored Wanderer. I am sure once we have Marlon, it will be easier to convince the other Rogue Mages of our good intentions."

Jollis repressed a shudder when the vision of the fresh graves outside the Manor grounds appeared in his mind. His ankle throbbed.

"If there is nothing else, I will leave you to your--"

"I do have one last question, Elder, if you would be so kind."

Yurton paused, and Jollis thought he saw uncertainty in the man's face. Finally, Yurton nodded once.

"When the time arrives for Amanda, are you confident the procedure over which Verano continues to toil will be safe to use?"

Yurton's lips curled into an easy smile. "Ah, you still show concern for the young woman."

"Forgive me if I seem obsessed."

"Not at all. It is my hope you will come to understand that the future is what is important. The spread of Enlightenment is our most cherished goal."

"I do not dispute that in the least," said Jollis, a small quaver creeping into his voice. "But one who will be so key to its advancement deserves to be treated with utmost care, especially when she will have suffered so much to bring us what we need."

Yurton's fingers laced together more tightly. "I remind you of our own history. Enlightenment did not come easy. There was much toil, much bloodshed, much heartbreak. Everything we do now is intent on minimizing this."

"And this would include Amanda as--"

"But the total elimination of all strife is impossible, as you have seen for yourself with Oceanus," continued Yurton as if Jollis had not spoken. "This is something you must come to realize, Honored Wanderer. Surely you have done things yourself which you felt at the time were uncomfortable, even distasteful, but you did them because you knew of the ultimate goal, and of the good it would bring."

Jollis could only nod. He did not trust his voice. Everything he heard he had accepted as truth, and yet now, coming from the Elder, the words seemed to ring hollow.

"And thus it will continue to be. Worry yourself not about any one person, Jollis, even one as critical to our plans. Ultimately, it is the end result which matters. Mind your feelings, as they may lead you off the required path."

Jollis again simply nodded, though the Elder's final words were opposite those he had heard at the Inonni temple from the Priestess, who had assured him his feelings for Amanda were just and good. Yet as much as the Priestesses were said to be the avatars of the Goddess, the Holy Order was representative of the will of the gods. Who was he to believe now?

The divine do not make such mistakes, nor do they pit their representatives against one another. Thus Jollis could come to only one conclusion: one or the other of the divine's representatives was wrong.

"I hope that answers your concerns, Wanderer."

"Yes, Elder," said Jollis in a neutral voice. "It does indeed."

The Farview image of Uroddus hovered between Tarras and the tree. The former Noble Lord could see bits of bark through the Mage's face, giving it a streaked and mottled appearance as it remained deep in thought.

Tarras felt the need to speak into the silence. "It does not have to be you personally, Guildmaster," said Tarras. "But it should be someone from among the Mage Elders, someone who has good sense of organization."

"You do realize what you are proposing is unprecedented since the era of the Mage Wars," said Uroddus.

Tarras smiled, as the inflection of Uroddus' voice suggested he was warming to the idea. Despite the obligatory "warning," he sensed Uroddus wanted to pursue this idea as much as he did. "That would be another reason for sending someone other than you. I have also sent word to Uridon, asking for a representative from his merchant clan, and perhaps from a sea clan as well."

Uroddus nodded once, still deep in thought.

"What prompted this was a memory, Guildmaster, of when we met near Selemas Keep after the occupation. In that moment, I had believed resistance was actually possible. Only now do I understand why. It was the sense that we were united, that the Mages, former Lords, former Overlords, and the merchants were about to work together towards a common goal."

"And then we went our separate ways," said Uroddus.

"Yes, exactly. And I have spent the better part of a season trying to recapture that feeling of unity and purpose, before I understood what feeling I was attempting to recapture in the first place. If only I had the time to tell you of the experiences I've had among the peasants!"

"I would indeed like to hear it, but I sense you are in a hurry."

Tarras sighed. "I have to give a speech before former Nobility who escaped Inonni capture to tell them something I am sure they do not want to hear."

"That the old order is gone and will never return."

Relief flooded Tarras. The conviction he heard suggested the Guildmaster had come to the same conclusion.

Uroddus nodded. "Yes, I see. I do not envy you your task. I have had similar issues with the Mage Elders concerning the future direction of magical research."

"Can I assume it has something to do with the Inonni Portal technology?"

"It is more of a catalyst, but explanations will wait for when there is more time."

"It can keep. So what is your answer?"

"I agree to the proposal," said Uroddus. "Though it will be awhile before I am able to free a Mage Elder for such an assignment. We are working on something right now which is critical to hampering the Inonni effort. Please understand that I cannot give voice to the details."

"Understood. But I will relay this to Rennis. He could use some good news along those lines."

Uroddus adjusted his spectacles. "I daresay the end result will be difficult to keep secret. Good day to you, Tarras."

"Good day, Guildmaster," Tarras said just before Uroddus' image faded out.

Tarras looked thoughtful as he picked up the Farview pearl. Now he was intrigued. What exactly were the Mages planning?

The site around the Portal formerly belonging to the late Overlord Gronnus D'yoran looked as if a tornado had hit it. Most of the Mages present were of the younger set. Freed from the watchful gaze of their Mage Elder teachers, they resorted to whatever techniques were most expedient. When the clearing proved too small to fit all their tents, they flattened the nearby trees with magic. When the space inside the Portal building felt too confining to allow more than a handful of Mages to examine the device at once, they blew out the walls.

"And just how will you prevent the Portal device from being drenched in the next spring storm?" Q'kollan had demanded before the dust from pulverized masonry had settled.

"We'll just hoist a shield over it if we have to," had come the flippant answer.

Q'kollan had barely resisted the urge to throttle the boy. Katla finally noticed the Mage's tension and took him aside. "They are acting like madmen," Q'kollan growled. "I had not expected this from such a diverse group."

Katla raised an eyebrow.

Q'kollan sighed. "I did not mean it quite that way."

"Oh yes, you did," Katla snapped. "You thought the Empiricists would act this way but not the Traditionalists."

"You must admit the younger generation of Mages seem to gravitate towards the Empiricist line of thinking. So I have some basis in fact for what you would label prejudice."

Katla held her retort and turned her gaze towards the clearing, where another rather bright burst of magic exploded in a shower of sparks. "At least you can be sure their magic is mathematically precise," Katla offered in as conciliatory a tone as she could muster.

Q'kollan did not look mollified, but some of the edge to his voice had eased when he spoke again. "I am more concerned we will be discovered by the Inonni. Every bit of magic we do is that much more chance we will be noticed."