“I don’t necessarily agree with that, Reis, but am I right in thinking the dreams that these artifacts have been provoking indicate these people are far from at rest.” A severe-looking man in his middle years looked at Tonin. “Is that not so?”
“I would certainly argue that the intensity and detail of the dreams reflects the desires of the subject to be free of the enchantment,” nodded Tonin, his voice confident. I could definitely confirm that, I thought grimly.
“Surely, now that we have this knowledge, we have a duty to rescue these individuals from this undeath?” a plain young woman in a modest rose dress spoke up suddenly, blushing at her own daring. “We cannot condemn them to an eternity in the shades, neither in this world or the other, at the mercy of Poldrion’s demons. Such a fate should only befall the worst of people, not innocents such as these.”
From the expressions around the room, I gathered traditional religious beliefs were not common among the wizardry. The girl sat down again, ducking her head and clutching a shawl to her. I realized I remembered her from a brief meeting the previous year—Allin, I recalled her name was.
“You say this restoration is something you could attempt?” A petite woman in an expensively cut turquoise gown stood, fine-boned hands clasped together, head tilted, birdlike as she looked at Tonin. “You are not certain of your rites, as I understand it; rather you have been piecing them together from various traditions and sources of lore?”
“I am confident that we have sufficient reason to make the attempt,” replied Tonin carefully. “I would argue that our priority should be the woman Guinalle. Her skills would then supplement our own knowledge and aid us in reviving the remaining colonists.”
“But what if there is some flaw in your ritual, some vital piece of information missing?” persisted the elegant mage. “What will happen then? Does failure risk the irretrievable loss of this suspended mind? Are you prepared for such consequences?”
“Ely has a point. Have all the potential sources of information been exhausted?” inquired a nearby wizard thoughtfully. “Perhaps we should wait a season or so, make sure all the knowledge available has been gathered?”
“We have already sent word to Bremilayne,” the scholar interjected hastily, “to see what can be learned from the Shrine of Ostrin, since D’Alsennin’s tale makes such significant mention of it.”
“What about that girl whom you still can’t revive, Mentor Tonin? What of her fate?” demanded a voice from somewhere. I saw Tonin flush miserably.
“May I make a point?” A mage in a workaday jerkin of no significant color and buff breeches raised a hand. “If this rite requires both the body and the artifact, any discussion of whether we should do this remains entirely academic until we have located the cave in question. This discussion is irrelevant until we have some idea of where to look. Are you proposing that we cross the ocean in search of this unknown land, Archmage?”
Planir remained seated as he looked at the wizard posing the question. “Clearly that would be essential, Herion, should the Council decide to pursue this. However, that is not such a startling proposal as it might seem. With the assistance of the House of D’Olbriot, we have found copies of the original charts made by Den Fellaemion’s early expeditions. Given we sailed deep into the ocean last year to rescue Messire D’Olbriot’s man over there from the Ice Islands, Cloud-Master Otrick is now well acquainted with the currents and wind systems prevailing in the eastern waters. Moreover, now that the tale of this colony has been uncovered, albeit in part, both Messire D’Olbriot and the Emperor Tadriol himself have expressed an interest in finding the lands in question and offered all aid at their disposal.”
I saw the fat wizard Kalion’s eyes grow shrewd as he worked that fact into his calculations.
A burly man of middle height stood, waving one hand in an urgent demand for attention. “In which case, we should wait until these Tormalins have made the attempt and see what they discover. What is to be gained by running such risks ourselves when for all we know these bodies may have rotted away entirely, been crushed in a rock fall, been eaten by wild beasts?”
“Mentor Tonin tells us that the ability of the artifact to promote dreams is linked to the continued existence of the body itself!” An untidily dressed female of uncertain age sprang to her feet, her tone scornful. “As you would know had you read his submission properly, Edlow.”
This exchange sparked a more heated debate on a wider front. The noise grew as several separate arguments raged, the flames fanned by discourtesy on all sides, from those supporting the rescue of the colonists as well as from those dismissing the whole idea.
“What happens now?” I asked Shiv, leaning close to make myself heard over the hubbub.
“Watch Planir,” he advised, a smile in his eyes, if not on his carefully neutral face.
As I looked, the Archmage exchanged a few words with both Otrick and Usara and then walked swiftly to the dais in the center of the room. Silence fell and Planir swept a low bow to the assembled wizards, his back to me.
“The wizard Viltred Sern wishes to speak. I would ask that you give his words serious consideration.” Unmistakable authority rang through the Archmage’s voice as Viltred, whom I had not even noticed sitting quietly on the far side of the room, made his way to the central dais. The old wizard was leaning on a slim cane but his color was better than I remembered it, his clothes no longer threadbare but newly made of stout gentian broadcloth. When he spoke, his voice was calm and assured, the old man seeming to gain in stature as he surveyed the gathering.
“You are debating whether you should or should not attempt to raise the lost settlers of Kel Ar’Ayen to life again as if it were some scholarly exercise, as if you had all the time in the world to come to a decision or to do yet more research in a bid to guarantee success.”
His faded gaze swept around the seated wizards and his voice grew more cutting.
“Drag your heads out of your close-written scrolls and sheltered researches for a moment. Consider what is happening in the real world, even as we speak. The Archmage has told you what his agents have been reporting to him, has he not? These Men of the Ice, these Elietimm, have been appearing among the Aldabreshi since the turn of the year before last, and now we know why. They are spreading this cult, this worship of the Queen of the Dark Moon. What is their purpose? Now we know; these Elietimm are creating a reserve of aetheric power to fuel their sorcery, which grows stronger with each convert to this new cult. Do not imagine that conversions will cease; the worship of a powerful female deity will find many takers among the Aldabreshi Warlords’ women folk, whatever their other philosophies.”
Viltred paused for a moment and shook his head. “Set aside the questions of magic for a moment; what else are these so-called priests doing? The experiences of D’Olbriot’s sworn man make it clear that these Elietimm are actively working to spread their influence in the Archipelago and shrink from little in their determination to do so; imagine the man assaulting a Warlord’s wife with complete disregard for the consequences, no less! Am I the only one concerned at the prospect of a hostile race gaining a hold over those who contribute so much to the decisions the Warlords make? Look to the future; what if holding a cult in common has the effect of unifying the domains? Where will Aldabreshin eyes turn then, if they no longer watch each other so closely?” Viltred walked around the edge of the circular dais as he spoke, his words lashing the assembled wizards.
“Another question: what power did this priest have that gave him the confidence to ignore the might of an Aldabreshi Warlord in his very encampment? Evidently he had sufficient capabilities to remove himself bodily from peril when his sorcery failed to overcome Ryshad’s will. Let us think about that for a moment; we can all translocate ourselves if need be, but what of this dominance over the mind? This aetheric magic has facets we cannot match, however strong our own enchantments in other spheres. We know these Elietimm retain their knowledge of the old sorcery, despite having lost their original source of power. Consider the implications of what you are being told! The Elietimm have crossed the ocean again, a feat that we know requires magical aid from whatever discipline, aetheric or elemental. Quite clearly they have somehow restored themselves; they are now able to apply that knowledge and take to the open seas for the first time in twenty or more generations! They are working from a position of strength, do not doubt it.”