Asvoden Way was deserted now. Taking advantage, she hurried to the towering Hall of Knowledge. At least it was still intact, its stained-glass windows unsmashed, its framework unbuckled. Every mage residing there worked night and day to keep it that way. The Hall was Dorana’s greatest symbol. If it should fall…

But it won’t. It can’t. Stop thinking like that.

Hurrying into the Council chamber, she hurried into another storm.

“Lord Varen! Is it possible you do not fully comprehend the extreme gravity of this alarming situation?”

Halted in the open doorway, unnoticed, Venette winced as Brice surged to his feet, both fists striking the Council table as though he wished it were someone’s face.

“No, Lady Brislyn, that is not possible!” He gestured at Sallis and Shari. “Are these the faces of mages who fail to comprehend our plight?”

Lady Dreen Brislyn, recently appointed head of the General Council, sat back in her chair and folded her arms. “It is well known to those of us who refuse to be browbeaten by certain elements of Doranen society that mages who achieve a place on this Council have raised dissembling to an art form. Why should I trust what your faces have to say? Indeed, why should I trust—”

“One moment,” Brice said curtly, and turned. “Lady Martain, you are late.”

Not appreciating his tone, Vanette took her customary seat. “I was delayed by a group of concerned citizens.”

“You were confronted? In broad daylight?” Sallis gaped. “Tell us you did not lower yourself to converse with a rabble!”

“Rabble?” Lady Brislyn demanded. “Don’t you mean a group of frightened fellow mages seeking leadership? That you would heap scorn upon them Lord Arkley, speaks volumes of your failures. You wonder why the rest of us have lost faith in this Council? Look in a mirror!”

“Mind your manners!” Sallis spat. “I won’t be lectured to in this Hall by a second-rate mage with less than half my years in her dish, whose family clings to its ranking by a fingernail!”

“Enough!” Brice shouted, his face burnished dark red. He sat again, heavily. “Conduct yourselves with dignity, all of you, or be expelled.”

Waiting for Sallis and Shari to stop their spluttering, Venette studied Dreen Brislyn from the corner of her eye. Young and lowly ranked she might be, but no mage became head of the oft-contentious General Council lacking political skill and a spine of steel forged as hard as a Vharne swordsman’s blade.

“My purpose here is twofold,” Lady Brislyn declared, before Brice could speak again. “Firstly I am come to determine what, in exact detail, this Council and the College of Mages is doing to undo the—”

“It’s not your place to question us,” Shari snapped. “The General Council devotes itself to such matters as are contained within its charter. Not contained within its charter is the right to—”