Seph touched her arm reassuringly. “Unfortunately, there’s no way to sneak you in there. Please, Madison.”
She finally nodded, still scowling.
Bruce Hays and Kenyon King were stationed at the doors into the great hall. Occasionally one of the other alumni came or went to replenish the refreshments for the attendees or deliver a message to Leicester. At one of those times, unnoticeable Seph and Jason slipped through the doors after them and into the conference room. They drifted the length of the room and stood on the great hearth, from which they could command a good view of the proceedings.
The Weir representatives were ranged around a polished oak table. Members of the Wizard Council were seated in chairs around the periphery. To Seph’s surprise, Linda Downey stood at the head of the table, running the meeting. She looked angry, pale, and drawn.
“Which one is your mother?” Jason’s voice came eerily out of the air.
“She’s the one talking.” It was the first time Seth had seen her since learning she was his mother. He studied her, seeking something of himself in her. He guessed he favored his father, though maybe something about the eyes ...
“Hey,” Jason whispered. “She’s talking about you.”
“I had a son named Joseph Downey McCauley,” Linda was saying. “Leander Hastings was his father.”
She was using the past tense.
And then Seph finally understood. She thinks I’m dead. That’s why she’s so angry.
“I hid my son to keep him out of harm’s way, to keep him away from wizards who might use him as a weapon against his father. I gave him up to protect him.” She paused. “Last year he ended up at Gregory Leicester’s private school. Dr. Leicester tortured him for almost a year.”
“McCauley was a wizard,” Leicester protested. More past tense. “Whatever happened, this is a matter between wizards.”
“An attack on my son is an attack on me,” Linda Downey said. “I was able to rescue him from the Havens, but then last week, Dr. Leicester kidnapped him again.”
“Don’t be ridiculous!” Leicester snapped. “The boy was lost in a storm on the lake. I didn’t have anything to do with that. It’s impossible, in fact.”
Linda ignored him. “Dr. Leicester did it to keep Leander Hastings away from the conference.”
“You have no proof I was behind any of this,” Leicester objected.
Linda handed a jump drive to Jack. “Can you bring these pictures up on the display?” Jack put it into his port. He struck a few keys, and in a few moments, a picture materialized on their screens, replacing the agenda. It was Seph, hands tied behind his back. Seph in the library.
“Dr. Leicester sent these photographs to Hastings. They were taken here in the winery. If you like, I can show you the very spot.”
Leicester sat back in his chair and placed his hands flat on the table. “I don’t understand the purpose of this,” he said. “After all, I didn’t kill the boy. Hastings did.” And in saying it, he confirmed everything.
Once again, the room fell silent. Jack was pale, his knuckles white where he gripped the arms of his chair. Ellen scrubbed away tears and glared at Leicester. Blaise and Mercedes stared down at the table.
“What is my purpose?” There were spots of color on Linda’s cheeks, and the gold was back in her eyes. “We are going to consider two possible Weir constitutions to replace the one that was set aside at Raven’s Ghyll a year ago. One more or less resurrects the old system. The other introduces a new order.
“You’ve been told the current system does not need fixing. I want to make sure that all of the guild representatives remember our history, and the price we’ve paid over the years for the dominance of wizards. I also want them to understand just exactly who these people are.”
“I’m liking your mother more and more,” Jason said. Seph just nodded wordlessly.
Linda returned to the agenda. “Now. We’ll allow the sponsors of each of the constitutions ten minutes in which to present the merits and rationale of their proposals. Dr. Leicester, Mr. D’Orsay?”
Still looking a little shell-shocked, D’Orsay stood and addressed the representatives. The essence of the argument was that, despite some flaws, the old hierarchy was a good system that met everyone’s needs. The role of the various guilds was clear and consistent with their talents. The Rules of Engagement had created a kind of Pax Romana over the centuries, keeping bloodshed and conflict to a minimum. Although there had been some regrettable excesses now and then, on the whole, the wizards had served as benevolent rulers.
In the end, Leicester put forward a motion to accept the new constitution. D’Orsay seconded it. It was brought up for a vote, and was soundly defeated, four to zero, with the wizards abstaining since they were split on the vote, two to two.
Jeremy Ravenstock introduced the second constitution, as he was the only one present who had supported it on the Wizard Council. He was a blunt, straightforward speaker, and no poet. Nick said a few words in support of it as well, and then Linda took over.
She looked around the table, making eye contact with each of the participants. “I know this has been difficult. You all took a risk in agreeing to serve. The fact that you are here proves that you know what the stakes are. I realize you are not used to saying no to wizards.
“But I want you to think about how your lives have been under the old hierarchy. I want you to think about everything you heard here this morning. This is our opportunity to make sure that it will be different for our ...children.” Her voice broke a little. “Shame on us if we squander it.”
Seph stared at his mother. She was a small woman, and not a wizard, yet she held the entire joint conference in thrall, wizards as well as Anawizard Weir. Somehow, she made freedom seem possible to the Anawizard Weir, who had been oppressed for years.
The Hastings/Downey constitution was passed by the Interguild Council, again by a vote of four to zero.
Leicester gestured, and Bruce Hays left the hall.
Seph looked up at the gallery windows, trying to judge the time. It probably wasn’t even noon, but the growing storm had diminished the light coming through the windows, and the fitful rain had turned into a gale.
Still, Linda wasn’t finished. She looked over the heads of those at the table and spoke to the Wizard Council representatives ranged against the wall.
“Dr. Leicester claims that the murder of my son is a wizard issue. Fair enough. The Rules of Engagement have long forbidden warfare among wizards. If Dr. Leicester witnessed the murder of my son at Hastings’s hands, then what has he done about it? Where is Hastings? Hastings is your colleague, a member of the Wizard Council. Perhaps he should be allowed to speak on his own behalf.”
The wizards in the gallery stirred. Whispers rolled through them like wind through marsh grass. “Where is Hastings?” Longbranch demanded. “I’m surprised he’d miss this event, since he was one of the architects.”
“I’m surprised you would allow yourself to be directed and interrogated by an enchanter,” Leicester said acidly. “This is wizard business, as I said.”
“But Hastings is a member of the Wizard Council,” Ravenstock pointed out. “And deserves as much protection under the rules as any of the rest of us.”
“Leander Hastings is a murderer, a schemer, and a traitor to his kind,” Adam Sedgwick said.
“Like any other wizard,” Jason muttered.
Seph recalled that Sedgwick was an ally of Leicester’s, who had supported him at the Legends meeting. He was a tall, aristocratic-looking man, probably the youngest wizard on the council.
“He’s encouraged this rebellion of the servant guilds by serving as their spokesperson and instigator,” Sedgwick went on. “Do you think they would have succeeded to this degree on their own, without the support of wizards?”
“Then where is he?” Geoffrey Wylie asked, looking about pointedly. “If this is his scheme, where is the schemer?”
“If this is his triumph, then why i
sn’t he here to enjoy it?” Ravenstock added, warming to the subject. “As council member or participant, he should be here.”
“Perhaps we should search the premises,” Linda suggested. “Perhaps the Council of Wizards would like to ask Dr. Leicester why he has recruited, tortured, and enslaved more than a dozen young wizards at the school he calls the Havens. Perhaps the council would like to know what Leicester and D’Orsay plan to do with that kind of power. Do you really believe he plans to use it against enchanters, warriors, sorcerers, and seers?” The low buzz from the sidelines increased to a rum-ble. Seph stirred. “I’m going to tell them where Hastings is,” he said.
Jason gripped his arm. “Something’s coming down. Let them show their hand, first.”
Bruce Hays returned and handed Gregory Leicester a rolled parchment. Leicester cleared his throat. “We’ll address these issues in a moment. But before we hare off on a tangent, why don’t we finish what we started? We have a new constitution to sign.”
“That doesn’t make sense.,” Jason said. “He can’t be anxious to sign off on the new constitution.”
In answer, Seph looked up toward the gallery. Unnoticed by the rest of the conference participants, the alumni were lining up along the rail, looking down at them, everyone but Warren Barber, who lay immobile in the garden.
Leicester was speaking again. “We’ll need one representative from each guild to sign it. You can decide among yourselves who will have that honor.” He paused. “We’ll start with the Seers Guild.”
Blaise Highbourne and Aaron Bryan were seated together on one side of the table. Hays brought the parchment around to their side and put it before them. Bryan picked up the pen, but Blaise was reading it. He put his finger to the page, reread a passage.
Seph was watching his face, saw it change. Blaise looked up at Leicester. “This is not the document we voted on.”
Leicester shrugged. “The document is different than the ones we considered previously.” His voice hardened. “But you will all sign it, nevertheless.”
Jeremy Ravenstock stood. “We have already chosen a constitution,” he said coldly. “We are not signing any other.”
Leicester looked up at the alumni in the gallery, then back at Ravenstock. He extended his hand, and a bolt of blue flame erupted from his fingertips. For a moment, Ravenstock was a silhouette, spinning from the force of the blow, outlined in flames. And the next moment he lay, unmoving, on the floor, the stone scorched under him. A wisp of smoke spiraled upward, and the air was filled with the stench of burning flesh. There was a shocked silence.
“I only need one wizard,” said Leicester. “And I will sign. Everyone else is expendable. Our experiment in representative government has come to its conclusion.”
At a gesture from D’Orsay, every door into the hall slammed shut.
Several members of the council came to their feet. “What do you think you’re doing?” Wylie demanded furiously.
“This.” Drawing on the strength of the alumni in the gallery, Leicester cast an immobilization charm that smashed down on everyone in the room, paralyzing them and pinning them to their seats. Save Claude D’Orsay and Adam Sedgwick and a woman Seph didn’t know, who had thrown up shields prior to the launch of the charm. And Seph and Jason, who had retreated deep into the fireplace.
D’Orsay took his place next to Leicester. Sedgwick and the woman wizard joined them, smiling.
“Who’s the woman next to Sedgwick?” Seph asked Jason.
“Nora Whitehead. Bad news,” Jason replied.
D’Orsay spoke. “Esteemed colleagues, members of the Council of Wizards, I would like to thank you all for attending this little gathering. It has made our task that much easier.”
He smiled. “Did you really think I would go to such lengths to appease the servant class?” He shook his head. “However, it was a perfect excuse to assemble the most powerful members of the Wizard Guild in one place.
“We wizards can no longer afford to debate endlessly and fight among ourselves. You see, we’ve grown weak over the years. Toothless. How else to explain this rebellion of the underguilds? It should have been put down immediately and ruthlessly. We believe it’s time to unite under a new and simpler covenant with clear rules of succession.”
Leicester unrolled the parchment, flattened it against the walnut surface of the podium, cleared his throat, and began to read to his captive audience.
It was all there. Reinstatement of the guild hierarchy. Codification of the subservient status of what Leicester called the lesser guilds. Abolition of the Sanctuary. Implementation of a warrior-breeding program with eventual resumption of the tournaments.
However, under the new regime, the tournaments would be held for tradition’s sake, for entertainment purposes only. Their role in allocating power would no longer be necessary. Gregory Leicester and Claude D’Orsay would be established guildmasters for life with control over the magical artifacts of both wizard houses and lineal descent to their male children. The alumni would form the core of a disciplinary force bound to Leicester and D’Orsay. They would adjudicate any wizard disputes and mete out discipline to other wizards as they saw fit.
When Leicester finished reading, he looked around the room. “Are there any questions?”
One of the council wizards spoke, an older man wearing a coat embroidered with red roses, someone Seph did-n’t know. “Yes. I have a question. Are you two out of your minds?”
D’Orsay nodded to Leicester, and Leicester incinerated the old man on the spot. There were no more questions.
“So,” Leicester said. “Let’s proceed with the signing.” He returned his attention to the seers, Aaron Bryan and Blaise Highbourne. “Mr.... Bryan, is it? I see you have the pen in your hand. Mr. Hays?” Bruce Hays shoved the parchment in front of him.
Bryan dropped the pen on the table and shook his head stubbornly, looking around at the others at the table for support. Hays gripped his shoulder, pushed power through his hand. The soothsayer gasped with pain, the blood leaving his face. Hays leaned down and spoke softly into his ear. It only took a few minutes. The seer signed.
Leicester smiled. “That wasn’t difficult, and it doesn’t have to be painful. It’s up to you.”
They moved on to the Sorcerers’ Guild, and Hays focused his powers of persuasion on Kip McKenzie rather than Mercedes. Trinity had been a focus of rebellion for a long time. Leicester and D’Orsay apparently hoped the other representatives would be easier to intimidate.
Kip didn’t hold out for much longer than Aaron Bryan. Anyone could see it was a hopeless cause. The illusion of power that they had all enjoyed so briefly was dissipating like the soft breath of the lake. It was just wizards, once again, making all the rules, pushing people around.
Hays carried the parchment to Akana Moon. But Leicester shook his head. He walked back along the table until he stood behind Linda Downey. He rested his hands lightly on her shoulders, as if formally taking possession.
“Perhaps Linda Downey would like the honor,” Leicester suggested, emphasizing the name. “Since she’s played such an important role in today’s proceedings.”
Linda stared straight ahead, her face a mask of indifference.
She’ll die before she signs Leicester’s document, Seph thought. He glanced around the room. All the doors were magically welded shut. There was no way to put their plan into motion.
“We’ve got to reach Madison,” he said to Jason.
“We can’t walk through walls.”
Seth peered up into the chimney and shook his head. Not even Jason’s slender body would fit through.
At the table, Akana Moon looked from Leicester to Linda. She pulled the parchment toward her. “I’ll sign,” she said quickly. And did.
And then there was just Jack and Ellen, the two warriors, both of the Trinity faction.
“Who’ll it be?” Hays asked, grinning. Ellen and Jack looked at each other, as if establishing a pact of resistance between them.
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Hays looked from Jack to Ellen, debating. After a moment’s indecision, he chose Ellen and put his hands on her shoulders. Power crackled into her. She went rigid, gasping a little, eyes wide, but saying nothing. He leaned down and whispered in her ear. Jack, watching, looked like he might jump out of his own skin, but Ellen stubbornly shook her head.
“Ellen,” Linda said tonelessly. “Please. There’s no point. You might as well sign.”
Ellen shook her head, and Hays sent the flame in again. All the blood drained from Ellen’s face. She bit her lip until it bled, still saying nothing. It seemed to go on forever, and then he released her, and her head drooped forward, sweat dripping from her face onto the table. Jack let out his breath in a long hiss.
Hays looked at Leicester, shrugging helplessly. “I’m afraid . . . if I do more, it might kill her.”
Leicester sighed. “You’re handling it all wrong. Give the pen to the boy. Kill the girl if he won’t sign.” Hays seemed intrigued by the idea, but didn’t go very far with it, because Jack scribbled his name on the document and shoved it back to Hays. Ellen glared at him but he wouldn’t meet her eyes. And it was done.
By now, Seph and Jason had walked the length of the hall, trying all the doors, just to be sure. All were secured.
Leicester and D’Orsay meant to make sure no one slipped away from the party early. But when Seph looked up at the alumni in the gallery, he noticed that some of them were missing.
After the constitution was “approved,” there was a brief pause while Leicester looked it over and then signed it with a flourish on behalf of the wizards.
“Now, all that remains is to carry this new constitution to Raven’s Ghyll and have it consecrated,” Leicester said. “But first we have a matter of discipline to attend to.”
Chapter Twenty-One
Wizard Discipline
Time passed slowly in the cellar room behind the fermentation chamber. There was no clear evidence of its progress, no clues as to weather, or events in the world outside. Martin had brought breakfast to Hastings the day before, but hadn’t appeared since. So Jason hadn’t been able to get to him.