“And I,” said Sallis, scowling. “If it turns out this would’ve kept till the morrow, Hahren, you’ll have cause for regret. The Council of Mages isn’t your tame dog to be summoned at a whistle.”

As Hahren stumbled over a more fulsome apology, Morgan noticed he had a bruise blooming over his left cheekbone. And there was—yes!—a hint of dried blood in his nostrils. Which hadn’t been the case when he left the man before joining Maris for dinner.

The girl in his antechamber? Surely she’s not responsible.

Remembering her, he felt his heart leap.

“Enough, Hahren,” said Lord Varen, with an impatient glance at Sallis Arkley. “You can be sure we know you’ve an understanding of what is important, and what isn’t.”

Sallis folded his arms, resenting the unsubtle rebuke.

“Yes, Lord Varen,” said Hahren, not quite wise enough to hide all his triumph. “My lord, I—we—have a problem that I feel must be dealt with by the Council. If you recall some weeks ago I passed on to you a request for College admission from one Mage Barl Lindin?”

“Vaguely,” said Venette, not waiting for Varen to speak. She was the only one of them who could get away with such impertinence. “A little nobody from an outlying district, isn’t she?”

Hahren’s cheeks reddened, making the bruise stand out more starkly. “The Eleventh district, yes. But she is far from a nobody, my lady. She’s a proven troublemaker. I’ve received warnings of her from the artisan mage who recently dismissed her for knavery, and from the Artisan’s Guild.”

“Is that so?” said Shari Frieden, her lips pleated with distaste. “Hahren, you appear a trifle the worse for wear. Do you claim this Mage Lindin has attacked you? With magic? And you were unable to defend yourself?”

Caught between humiliation and outrage, Hahren hemmed and hawed, then nodded. “She turned up without warning, demanding to see me. I thought it best she be dealt with once and for all, so I gave her a few minutes. When I didn’t say what she wanted to hear, she lost her temper. And when I attempted to remove her from my office…”

“She attacked you?” Lord Varen leaned forward, fingers drumming the Council table. “Hahren, this is a grave charge indeed.”

“When you say you attempted to remove her,” Morgan added before Hahren could reply, risking censure and not caring, “do you mean you laid hands on her?”

Hahren’s eyes glittered with woken fury. “She wouldn’t leave when I told her to! She stood there, in my office, and defied me!”

“So you did lay hands on her. In effect, you attacked her first.”