With a horrified cry, Barl opened her eyes and sat up. Clutched at Venette, who was clutching hard at her.

“Morgan, it’s Morgan,” she gabbled, almost choking with fear. “He’s free, Venette. He’s coming. He knows where we are. Oh quick, there’s no time.”

The weather map. It wasn’t finished. She had to finish it, or the magic would fail. No tamed weather, no shielding wall, and Morgan loose among the Olken.

Remmie.

She pulled free of weeping Venette and staggered to her feet. “Get up. Get up! We have to hurry. I don’t know what power’s in him now. I don’t know what he can do.”

Tears slicked Venette’s blanched cheeks. The haughty councillor was gone. “Remmie’s dead? Barl, is he—”

“Yes, Remmie’s dead!” she said, and shook her. “Mourn him later, Venette, when I’m gone. But if you don’t help me now, we’ll all be dead. Understand?”

On a shuddering breath, Venette regained her self-control. “Yes.”

“Yes. Now run to my tent, and bring my big leather satchel to me. Hurry.”

As Venette ran, Barl flung herself back to the weather map. So nearly done, so nearly, surely she had time…

The world blurred around her as she finished her crucial task, embedding the remaining incants in the model of Lur carved by loving Olken hands. The details could be finished later, after she was gone, but the magic couldn’t wait. It had to be finished now.

Lost in desperate magework, she was vaguely aware of Venette’s return, of Elder Chaffie and Maris Garrick and some others on the new Council, all come to the village hall to see… whatever they saw.

And then she was done, she was done. The incants ignited. The weather map came to life, humming with potential. Waiting for the wall.

She looked at Venette, sweat dripping down her face. “My satchel. Quickly. And send everyone else away.”

Of course Maris protested, but she couldn’t care about that. Upending the heavy leather satchel, she showed its scattered contents to Venette.

“My diary. You keep it. Read it, by all means, but never let it out of your sight. There’s an incant in here… I finished it early this morning.” She felt herself shiver. “Venette, it’s for an unmaking. The worst you’ll ever see. Don’t use it unless you have to. It’s for a last resort. Understand?”

Venette’s eyes brimmed with tears. “Yes, my dear. Yes.”

“This? Take it. This is a warding. My own personal seal. When the time is right build a library for the books and scrolls of magic you think should be kept secret, and ward it. It’s the only way to be sure.”

Nodding, Venette looked at the seal. “Of course.”

What else… what else…