“Very well.” Dorian ignored the furious Sebourne. “As you have reminded me, I did invite you to address this Council. Considering the gravity of the matter before us, wewilllisten to what you have to say, but first, let us address the matter of Gaelen vel Serranis. He admitted to slaying Celierians in the north. That is a fact not in dispute.”
“Agreed. I was mistaken about that. Gaelen swore undershei’dalintouch thatdahl’reisen, not the Eld, are indeed to blame for the dead villagers... but he also swore the ones he killed were Mage-claimed.”
“As Lord Sebourne pointed out earlier,” Annoura interrupted, “Mage-claiming is known to be undetectable. How can Gaelen vel Serranis be certain the ones he killed were, in fact, Mage-claimed?”
“Until last night, I believed as you do. No one—not mortal, Fey, Elf, or Danae—has ever known who is Mage-claimed until they act. But thedahl’reisenhave discovered a way to do what we cannot. Gaelen says the ones he slew were in the service of the Mages. He swore it, undershei’dalintouch. I believe him, as should you.”
Behind Annoura, Rain saw one of her little lapdog lordling’s eyes go wide with fear. A similar but more somber concern was reflected in the faces of some of the lords who held land along the border. Unfortunately, those few were outnumbered by the many showing open doubt.
“There is more,” Rain added. “Gaelen also warned us that Eld troops were gathering along the border.”
“Oh, for the gods’ sake,” Sebourne exclaimed. “Must we listen to this propaganda? Gaelen vel Serranis—an admitted murderer—now claims he can detect the undetectable and see invisible Eld troops gathering across the Heras River. Your Majesties, this is an utter fabrication, and not even a credible one at that!”
“Is it?” Rain countered. “I, too, wanted to reject what Gaelen said. I wanted to hide from the truth, as Celieria has long been doing, but the tairen convinced me I could not. They reminded me that I have a duty, no matter how unpleasant or frightening it may seem, to defend the Fey and protect the world from Mage evil. They reminded me that I have a duty to my mate, and to her kin, and to the Fey-kin among you.” He glanced at Dorian, Barrial, and Teleos, and said, “Tairen do not abandon their kin. Tairen defend the pride.”
He turned back to Sebourne and pinned the man with a hard gaze. “I flew to the Eld border last night, Lord Sebourne. I crossed the Heras and scouted five miles deep into Eld, and what I saw confirmed Gaelen’s claims. Those caravans bursting with produce you say you’ve watched pass by every day? They’ve been carrying more than vegetables. The Eld have been smuggling troops and armaments along the border, right under your noses. The villages have all been trenched and fortified. The Eld are preparing for war.”
Several of the other border lords sat up a little straighter. How many of them, Rain wondered, had also watched the caravans from their own keeps and thought nothing of them?
Sebourne would not be swayed. “If the Eld have strengthened their defenses along the border, Worldscorcher, it’s most likely because they learned that you”—he jabbed a finger at Rain—“are no longer safely locked away behind the Faering Mists!”
“That is a possibility,” Rain agreed. “But can you afford to take the chance?”
Several seats down from Sebourne, Lord Darramon, one of the moderates of the Twenty, rose to his feet. “Even assuming the Mages have regrouped—and that is an unsubstantiated assumption—and even assuming the Eld have built up their troop strength along the border, why would they attack us now? Celieria has shown no aggression towards the Eld in centuries. What cause have we given them for war?”
Before Rain could answer, Teleos surged to his feet. “Why have the Eld ever attacked?” he called out. “For conquest. For power. For the glory of the real Dark Lord, Seledorn, God of Shadows.”
“To destroy you and your defenses,” Rain stated baldly. “Because Celieria is all that stands between them and the Fading Lands.”
“Why have you ceased your devotions, daughter?”
“I—” Ellysetta stopped herself before she asked the archbishop why he was weaving magic. “What kind of blessing is that, Father?” she asked instead.
He frowned in annoyance. “It is the traditional blessing of the Solarus required before the initiation of the Bright Bell. Now direct your attentions to your devotions, and allow me to continue. We cannot begin the Bright Bell until the chamber is blessed.”
Ellysetta turned back to the altar and bowed her head. The familiar words fell from her lips by rote, but her attention remained focused on the archbishop as he circled the chamber.
She realized her mistake almost immediately. The archbishop wasn’t weaving magic. It was the scepter in his hand. Just as the Fey had long ago cast a Fire-spell on the lamps of the city and a cleansing spell on the waters of the Velpin, the archbishop’s gold-and-crystal scepter—passed down through generation after generation of priests—contained magic. And the traditional “blessing” invoked the scepter’s magic.
«Bel. Gaelen.»She wanted to tell them what she’d discovered, to ask if they could sense the weave, too.
Only silence answered.
She opened her senses, forcing down her own natural barriers in an attempt to examine the scepter’s weave. What she found sent a chill down her spine.
Five-fold. The archbishop had enveloped the Solarus in a five-fold weave.
She was imprisoned in a cage of magic.
“Join me in the center of the room, daughter, so we may begin the Bright Bell of meditation and purification.”
“Remove the blessing from the room, Greatfather.”
The archbishop seemed genuinely surprised by the request. “I cannot unbless the chamber. And we cannot leave the Solarus until the Bright Bell is concluded. Now come, join me in the center of the room and prostrate yourself upon the Altar of Light.”
She stood and faced him. “Not until you remove the five-fold weave you just constructed around this room.”
Behind her, Lauriana gasped. “Ellysetta! Mind your tongue!”
