Another magician jumped to his feet “If the Thuril conquest had continued, there would have been too few in the north to repulse the Thün migration that year. It was a clear case of the salvation of Szetac Province and the Holy City. Now our borders in the north are secure. The situation is not the same.”
Arguments erupted over the entire hall, and it took several minutes for Fumita to restore order. Hochopepa rose and said, “I would like to hear Hodiku’s reasons for considering this request vital to the security of the Empire. Any magician who is willing is free to work on behalf of the conquest.”
“That is the point,” responded Hodiku. “There is no reason for any magician who feels this war into another space-time is right and proper for the Empire not to work in support of the conquest. Without the Black Robes who already serve the Warlord, the rift would never have been prepared for such an undertaking. It is that he now makes demands of the Assembly itself I find objectionable If five or six magicians choose to serve in the field, even to traveling to this other world to risk their lives in the battle, then it is their own concern. But if one magician responds to this demand without considering the issues, it will appear the Assembly is now subject to the will of the Warlord.”
Several magicians applauded this sentiment, and others seemed to weigh its merits. Only a few booed and jeered. Hochopepa stood again. “I would like to offer a proposal. I will undertake on behalf of the Assembly to send a message to the Warlord expressing our regret that the Assembly as a body may not order any magician to perform as requested, but that he is free to seek the services of any magician willing to work on his behalf.”
A general murmur of approval ran through the room, and Fumita asked, “Hochopepa offers a proposition to send a statement of policy to the Warlord on behalf of the Assembly. Does anyone find this objectionable?” When no objections were forthcoming, he said, “The Assembly thanks Hochopepa for his wisdom.”
He paused for a moment, then said, “Another matter needs our attention: the novice Shiro has been found lacking in the moral qualities necessary for the Greater Art. The mind probes reveal that he harbors anti-Imperial feelings, learned as a youth from his maternal grandmother, a Thuril woman. Is the Assembly agreed?”
Hands were raised, and each bore a nimbus of light as the magicians voted. Green for life, red for death, and blue for abstention. Milamber abstained, but the vote was otherwise unanimous for death. One Black Robe rose, and Milamber knew that within minutes the novice would be stunned senseless, then teleported to the bottom of the lake, where his lifeless body would remain, too cold to rise to the surface.
After the meeting broke up, Shimone said, “You should make a point of coming more often, Milamber. We hardly see you anymore. And you spend too much time alone.”
Milamber smiled. “That is true, but I plan to remedy the situation tomorrow.”
The chime sounded throughout the house, and servants jumped to make ready for the Great One’s visit. Kamatsu, Lord of the Shinzawai, knew that a Great One had struck a chime in the halls of the Assembly, willing the sound to come here, to announce his imminent appearance.
In Kasumi’s room, Laurie and the elder son of the house sat engrossed in a game of pashawa, played with painted pieces of stiff paper. It was common to alehouses and inns in Midkemia and was one more detail in the young Tsurani’s drive to master every facet of Midkemian life.
Kasumi stood. “It is most likely he who once was my uncle; I had best go.”
Laurie smiled. “Or could it be that you wish to stem your losses?”
The Tsurani shook his head. “I fear I have created a problem in my own house. You were never a good slave, Laurie, and if anything, you have grown more intractable. It is a good thing I like you.”
They both laughed, and the elder son of the house left. A few minutes later a house slave came running to Laurie and informed him that the lord of the house commanded him to come at once. Laurie jumped up, more from the slave’s obvious agitation than from any inbred obedience. He hurried to the lord’s room and knocked on the doorjamb. The door slid to one side, and Kasumi held it. Laurie stepped through and saw the Shinzawai lord and his guest, and then confusion overtook him.
The guest was wearing the black robe of the Tsurani Great Ones, but the face was Pug’s. He started to speak, stopped, and started again “Pug?”
The lord of the house looked outraged at this forward behavior by the slave, but his nearly voiced command was stopped by the Great One. “May I have the use of this room for a few minutes, lord? I wish to speak to this slave in private.”
Kamatsu, Lord of the Shinzawai, bowed stiffly. “Your will, Great One.” He left the room with his son behind, he was still in shock over the appearance of the former slave and confused at the conflicts within himself. The Great One he was, there could be no thought of fraud: his manner of arrival proved it. But Kamatsu couldn’t help feeling that his arrival heralded disaster for the plan he and his son had so carefully nurtured for the last nine years.