“With magic,” said Shari, unmoved. “Even a rustic from the Eleventh district must know that is a crime.”

“It wouldn’t have happened if he hadn’t tried to snatch at me!”

“It wouldn’t have happened,” Varen countered coldly, “if you’d taken no for an answer.”

And that was indisputably true. The look on the girl’s face was as good as a confession.

Idly, Venette smoothed a wrinkle in her mauve silk sleeve. “Why didn’t you?”

The girl’s cheeks pinked again. “Because I dispute the notion that only those mages born to a First Family are worthy enough to study in the College.”

“Mage Lindin, we are not interested in your opinions,” said Varen, brusque with impatience. “You are not standing here because we want you to air them. We understand you’ve been dismissed from your employment.”

“I recently left Master Arndel’s artisanry,” the girl said, wary now. “Yes.”

“Stop prevaricating!” said Sallis. “You were dismissed.”

“Unfairly! My lord, I prevented a terrible accident and saved the artisanry. But the mage at fault lied. Arndel took his word over mine because he doesn’t like me.”

And that was the truth. They could all hear it. But instead of expressing sympathy, Varen shook his head. “It seems you find trouble at every turn, Barl Lindin. It seems you are a mage who has yet to learn her place.”

“My place is in the College,” the girl said, no longer defiant. Almost beseeching. “Look!”

Without asking permission, she summoned a paperweight from somewhere. Hahren’s chamber, perhaps? Then, even as Sallis and Shari protested, with astonishing ease she transmuted the clear crystal globe into a perfect porum blossom. A whispered incant, a swift sigil, and the crystal flower flooded blue, flooded emerald, flooded violet, flooded gold, the rainbow colours cascading, the girl’s mastery complete. Another incant, another sigil, and the flower transmuted into an eagle, fluid and effortless, snatched timeless out of flight.

Morgan felt his breath catch. Barl Lindin’s command and artistry were flawless.

Unimpressed, Varen surged to his feet. “Enough! You are not brought before us to perform parlour tricks.”

A flash of desolate fury, then Barl Lindin lowered her head.

“We succeed as a society not because we are mages,” Varen continued, implacable, “but because we understand the limits of our power. We understand there must be restraint, and balance, a careful order maintained that we might not be overcome. Your indiscipline, Barl Lindin, is a threat to that order.”

The girl’s head lifted sharply. “And do you call it indiscipline when a ranked mage—”

“Hold your tongue, Mage Lindin! This is not a debate!”

She wanted to argue that, but wisely refrained.

“With the exception of this Council,” Varen said, “it is a capital crime for a mage to use magic on another. Barl Lindin, do you claim ignorance of that fact?”

“My lord—” The girl swallowed. “I was protecting myself.”

“Do you claim ignorance?”