The mage took a pace backward, to the center of the dais where the magelight overhead grew faintly tinted with blue under the force of his passion.
“We are not here to debate the rights and wrongs of an erudite moral dilemma! We are facing very real dangers. These men who are even now spreading their lies among the Aldabreshi are of the same race as those who attacked and defeated the Kel Ar’Ayen settlements with savagery, madness and death by sorcery. Read the tale that D’Olbriot’s man has brought you, of the last days of D’Alsennin and his attempts to defend those beleaguered colonists. Ask yourselves how you would counter the magics that were used if you should find them raised against Hadrumal? Remember—no matter how much we may learn about this magic of the mind and matter, we cannot use it. Not one of the weakest mage-born has been able to master the simplest cantrips of an illiterate Lescari hermit. Our magic is powerful, but I prefer to fight fire with my own fire. The finest sword in the world is little use if your enemy is using a pike or a crossbow!”
Viltred turned and spread his hands in a dismissive gesture. “Not that these Elietimm will be interested in Hadrumal of course, not when far richer and more helpless game grazes all unsuspecting for their arrows. If these Elietimm wage war against Tormalin now, what is there to resist them? With all due respect to Mentor Tonin and his scholars, aetheric magic these days is reduced to little more than a meaningless jumble of superstition and half-remembered incantations. Our practitioners of aetheric enchantments certainly cannot meet the Elietimm on anything approaching level ground. Can we mages defeat them with our own magics? Perhaps, but I do not share Hearth-Master Kalion’s certainty. More to the point, would we be allowed to? Can anyone here seriously imagine the Emperor allowing the wizards of Hadrumal free rein with fire, flood and storm, even if it is to defend his lands? I do not see that happening before the situation is utterly desperate. How long do you think it would take these sorcerers to gain a hold on the mainland if they really want to?”
Viltred gripped his cane in one thin hand and shook his fist at the assembled mages. “Whatever the risks, whatever the dangers of drowning ourselves in the far ocean or condemning these unfortunates trapped in enchanted sleep to madness or darkness, I tell you that we should not be debating whether we can afford to try to revive these people! Rather the question is can we afford not to, can we afford to face the threat of this Elietimm sorcery without some true knowledge of aetheric magic, without at least one person who knows these people and what they are capable of? Make no mistake, this threat is real and it is not going to go away. We know they are already covertly attacking our ability to resist them; you have all been told of their attacks on Tormalin shrines over the winter seasons. Why else would they do this, if not to destroy the last vestiges of aetheric lore remaining to us? I am here myself, forced into flight to escape torture and death at Elietimm hands, leaving them free to steal some few things from the lost colony that I recovered on my voyage with Azazir.”
Viltred paused for a moment, struggling with an understandable desire to remind the Council of the derision that had always greeted the tales of that journey. To his credit, the old wizard rose above the urge, continuing his challenge in a harsh voice.
“There’s another question! Ryshad’s testimony shows the extent of Elietimm interest in these artifacts from Kel Ar’Ayen, even more than my own experiences. Possessing the D’Alsennin sword was so important to this so-called priest that he was prepared to risk not only doing murder but working his enchantments in the very heart of the Archipelago, with all the dangers that entailed. How important would a quest have to be before any of you would risk the torments the Warlords reserve for the crime of magic? Ask yourselves— why do these Elietimm want these artifacts for themselves? I don’t know, but I’ll wager a pennyweight to a pack-load that it bodes ill for the colonists if we do not rescue them! In all conscience and logic, how can we do anything else?”
The room erupted into chaos as the mages all tried to speak at once, shouting each other down with scant regard for the formalities of debate, leaping to their feet on all sides. Viltred returned to his seat and sat down, arms folded tight, breathing hard, passion burning in his fierce eyes. Planir sat on his plainly carved chair, face calm but a spark of cunning deep in his eyes. There was an alertness to his relaxed posture that reminded me of a hunting heron, ready to strike when the moment was right.
I couldn’t see what signalled that moment but Planir suddenly sprang to his feet, a carved ebony staff appearing in his hand from the empty air. The foot of the stave came down on the flagstones with a ringing strike that silenced the chamber. As the mages stood motionless, cut off in mid-pronouncement, Planir strode to the dais.
“Be seated. This debate has lasted long enough. We have a clear choice before us. Do we act or not? Do we take what knowledge we have and try to rescue the settlers of Kel Ar’Ayen, or do we do nothing, simply continuing our researches despite the Elietimm threat?” He struck the dais with the staff, the hollow boom echoing around the great chamber as the wizards hurried to their seats. “Those for action?”
Mages all around the room raised their hands, some with papers clutched in them, some with staff or rods. Beams of radiance streamed from them and gathered in the center of the room, coalescing in a brilliant pattern of coruscating light, cyan, saffron and rose flickering on the very edge of sight.
“Those against?” Planir demanded.
The remaining wizards summoned their powers and sent tendrils of shadow into the shifting luminescence, strands of darkness weaving into the light and dimming it, softening the luster with shades of jade, vermilion and indigo. The pattern hung in the air, the colors twisting around each other in a dizzying confusion. I blinked and leaned toward Shiv, careful not to risk touching the stream of emerald light rising from his outspread hands.
“What’s the purpose of this?”
Shiv’s eyes did not leave the twisting and tangled rainbow above our heads. “The Council does not make its judgments on mere numbers but on the strength of will shown by those called to give judgment,” he said softly. “Watch.”
I watched as the colors writhed and fought, casting strange reflections on the upturned faces all around the room. The shadows grew, thickened and dimmed the radiance but could not put it out, suddenly fading as color as intense as sunlight striking off gemstones burned through the darkness.
“Enough.” Planir banged his staff a third time and the colors vanished, leaving blinding white radiance that scoured the eyes. “The decision of the Council is for action. So be it!”