Behind them, the Council chamber was quiet. Out on the balcony the wind sighed and moaned. Far below them, the mages of Elvado walked the streets, unaware of the shadow slipping over their bright land.

Turning his head, Brice looked at her in silence. His eyes were very tired. And then he nodded. “Indeed.”

Venette followed him inside, and waited for him to retake his seat before she slid back into her own.

“My late wife’s brother,” Brice said, looking at Bellamie Ranowen but addressing them all, “heads the Guild of Pothers. He came to see me last night. He was… ill at ease. Joryn Torvig’s not one for panicking. Cannot abide histrionics and such nonsense. So when he raises an eyebrow I—well, I take him more seriously than most. He tells me the Guild’s pothers have been talking amongst themselves. Some of their patients are dying unexpectedly, others are not recovering as quickly or as well as their maladies and injuries suggest they should. Joryn tells me the Guild’s pothers are baffled… and growing concerned.”

“I don’t know,” said Bellamie Ranowen, as all eyes turned to her. “I’m sorry, I wish I could say with certainty that this is a separate matter, but I can’t. It might be connected. Until I understand better the nature of Dorana’s malady, it would be foolish of me to give you false hope.”

“What do you know?” Shari demanded. “Anything? Or have you come here merely to impress us with your ignorance?”

Brice glared. “Lady Frieden.”

“No, my lord,” said Bellamie Ranowen. “It is a fair question. Lady Frieden, I will tell you what I know. I know we can’t keep this a secret any longer. Many things can be explained with a little clever sleight of hand. Mage-mist isn’t one of them. Besides, it is dangerous. I suspect it might even be lethal. People must know how to protect themselves against it.”

“Is there protection?” said Sallis. “You have not said so before.”

“I intended to, Lord Arkley. At the College this morning I banished the mage-mist in the quadrangle with a dispersal incant.”

“You’d use magework to fight magic?” Brice frowned. “Is that wise?”

Bellamie Ranowen shrugged. “I don’t know how else we can fight it. Something tells me flapping our hands at it won’t frighten the mage-mist away.”

“What else do you suggest?”

“That we limit the use of magework until this problem is resolved. Most particularly those incants that require complex syllabic harmonics and sigils.”

“You still think it’s possible that somehow magework is the underlying cause of Dorana’s wounds?”

“Lord Varen, it is still too early to say. I do not care to rule out any explanation. But it’s my opinion that being cautious from now on can’t hurt.”

“Agreed,” said Brice. “Very well. This Council will issue an edict to that effect.”