“There, I am inclined to take your advice. I think it’s possible that when Morgan’s temper cools, he might well regret offering it. So, at least for now, I will decline to accept it. As far as Council matters are concerned, as far as the rest of Dorana is concerned, the new Lord Danfey is on a leave of absence for personal reasons.”

Pleased, Venette savoured another small mouthful of brandy. “Sallis won’t like that.”

“Oddly enough, I don’t make my decisions based on what Sallis Arkley will or won’t like.”

Should she confess that she’d asked Morgan about Dorana’s unravelling? No. Best not. That would only to lead to more shouting. But still, she should sound Brice out on enlisting his aid.

“Brice… even though you’re content to let Morgan remain with Barl Lindin on the Danfey estate, that doesn’t mean we can’t make use of his talents. I know we’ve thrashed this out once before, but—”

“Venette, nothing has changed,” said Brice, with more forbearance than she’d expected. “Indeed, he is more volatile now than he has ever been. No. Dorana is not in such desperate straits yet that we should risk his uncertain temper. Nor do we suffer such a dearth of talented mages that we must return to him on bended knees and beg for his assistance. We will continue to let him cool his heels while we wait to see how… or if… this unravelling continues.”

Venette sighed. “All right, Brice. Only you’ll need to keep Sallis on a very short leash. You and I both know he’ll go to bed tonight celebrating Morgan’s tumble from grace. And when Sallis learns that once again you’ve broken his fall…”

“Never fret,” said Brice. “You may leave Sallis to me. Indeed…” He smiled. “You may leave. No doubt Orwin is missing you.”

“Oh.” She stood. “All right, Brice. If I’m boring you.”

“Venette, you are never boring.” Another smile, less gentle. “As you well know.”

Complimented and insulted, she pulled a face and went home.

Nearly five weeks later, the first incidents of severe magical calamity were reported.

“Mage-mist?” Brice considered Bellamie Ranowen from beneath tightly lowered brows. “That is what you’ve decided to call this—this phenomenon?”

The College tutor, wan with exhaustion and, Venette thought, thinner than she’d been the last time she stood in the Council chamber, clasped her hands behind her back. “Yes, Lord Varen. I’m sorry. Is that too fanciful a term for the Council?”

“Watch your tongue,” growled Sallis. His temper had been wicked ever since he’d learned Morgan would one day return to claim his place at the table. “This is no time for levity.”

Pointedly indifferent to his hostility, Bellamie Ranowen shrugged. “No? At times like this, my lord, I find that levity is my only defence against hysteria.”