Q'arlynd swore silently. Seldszar had warned him to expect opposition from the College of Mages, but not this. Things weren't going to go as quickly as Q'arlynd had hoped. Not if the Conclave had two nominations to consider.
"I present to the Conclave T'lar Mizz'rynturl," Guldor continued. "I nominate her School of Bae'qeshel Magic for elevation to College."
Q'arlynd's breath caught in his throat. Years of practice at stifling his reactions allowed him to hide any further reaction. The bae'qeshel tradition was extremely rare, with only a handful of practitioners. His sister Halisstra had been one of them.
He took another look at the female on the driftdisc. Had Halisstra known her? The more he looked at T'lar Mizz'rynturl, however, the more he doubted it. Had someone so distinctive visited Ched Nasad, Q'arlynd would have remembered her.
"What's this School of Bae'qeshel Magic?" Master Antatlab asked, mispronouncing the name. His deep bass rumble reverberated through the floor, up into the soles of Q'arlynd's boots. Even without the benefit of the speaker's sphere's augmentation, it had that effect. The face of the Master of Elemental Magic was as square as a granite block, and just as deeply pitted. "I've never heard of such a school before!"
"Nor have I," said the much quieter voice of Master Seldszar.
"You should pay more attention to cavern clack," another of the masters said. "This past month, the mage halls have been buzzing with rumors that a new school had been founded. Everyone was trying to guess what it might specialize in."
The speaker's sphere shifted back to Master Guldor's sharp-angled face. "The School of Bae'qeshel Magic is based on an ancient bardic tradition."
"Bardic magic!" Master Antatlab exploded, pounding his fist on the golden ball in front of his podium. The quicksilver face quivered as if an earthquake were surging through it. "This is a conclave of mages, not minstrels!"
"Our constitution only prohibits clerical magic," Master Guldor countered. "It is silent when it comes to the bards' arts. And why? Because the mages who founded the Conclave recognized that bardic magic is a brother to sorcery. Both arts draw their power from the same source: the practitioner's own heart and will."
Q'arlynd cleared his throat softly in an attempt to get Master Seldszar's attention. According to the rules of the Conclave, Q'arlynd was forbidden to speak unless directed to. If only he could speak, he could end this, right now, by pointing out the one thing the masters didn't realize. While it was true that bae'qeshel was a bardic tradition, it was one that could only be practiced by someone who had taken a particular goddess as her patron deity.
Lolth.
On the surface, Guldor's nomination of T'lar Mizz'rynturl's school looked like nothing more than a means of countering Seldszar's play for an allied eleventh master on the Conclave. Yet Q'arlynd knew it had to have deeper roots than that. Guldor Zauviir shared a House name with the priestess who headed up what remained of Lolth's temple in Sshamath. And there were rumors the ties were knotted even tighter than that. Streea'Valsharess Zauviir smoldered like a coal under the heels of the wizards who had ground out her rule in Sshamath. T'lar Mizz'rynturl's "school" was likely the high priestess's attempt to burn the Conclave from within.
If Q'arlynd could only catch Master Seldszar's attention, T'lar's "school" would have as much hope of being accepted into the Conclave as a boy did of becoming matron mother of a noble House. A few quick flicks of Q'arlynd's fingers would do the trick.
Q'arlynd cleared his throat a second time.
Seldszar still didn't acknowledge him.
Another of the masters was speaking. "Guldor does have a point." The speaker's sphere bore a female face now-that of Master Felyndiira, a breathtaking beauty with long-lashed eyes and luxurious hair that swept back from a peak on her forehead. What the Master of Illusion and Phantasm really looked like was anyone's guess. "Bards are very similar to sorcerers."
Ah, so Felyndiira was allied with Guldor. Seldszar had wondered if she might be. There were rumors she worshiped the Spider Queen in secret.
Antatlab threw up his hands, not even bothering to touch his golden ball. "So are shadow mages, and you fought their admission to the Conclave dagger and nail!"
Felyndiira rolled her eyes. "The School of Shadow Magic was merely a cloak for Vhaeraun's clerics. Everyone knew it-everyone but you."
Q'arlynd cast a cantrip that plucked at Seldszar's embroidered sleeve, but the Master of Divination paid it no heed. Seldszar reached for the golden ball in front of his podium. As he touched it, the quicksilver face widened, and its eyes darted back and forth in time with Seldszar's own. Even at this critical juncture, his attention was at least partially on his scrying crystals. "This Conclave was convened to consider the nomination of the School of Ancient Arcana, a nomination that has already been second-spoken," he said with a nod at Master Urlryn. "Since no second has spoken for the so-called 'school' Guldor has nominated, I suggest we focus on the task at hand and not be distracted by frivolous-"
"I second the nomination of the School of Bae'qeshel Magic." The sphere's features shifted, adopting the face of the only other female among the ten masters. Shurdriira Helviiryn, Master of the College of Alteration stared at Seldszar and arched an eyebrow, as if daring him to protest her second.
The speaker's sphere shifted to a gaunt male face with hungry eyes. "The nomination has been second-spoken," it said in a paper-thin whisper that filled the chamber-the voice of Tsabrak, Master of the College of Necromancy. The vampire drow's real face was little more than a shadow, lost in the hood of his bone white robe. "Two nominations stand. Let the debate begin."
One by one, the masters stated their arguments and counter arguments. Warily, they fenced back and forth. Q'arlynd could imagine the unspoken calculations that must be whirling through their heads. Support one nomination? Both? What was to be gained-and lost-by building or breaking alliances? Was it better to speak first, or hold back until others declared themselves?
With this second, more complicated nomination to consider, the debate might go on for a full cycle. Or more.
Q'arlynd snuck another look at his apprentices. They were still frozen in place next to the shimmering wall of force. Behind it, one of the tentacled deepspawn the Breeder's Guild raised stared hungrily out at the two duelists.
Then Q'arlynd noticed something that chilled his gut like ice water. A crack had just appeared in the wall of force, next to the duelists. A crack that was widening.
There could be only one explanation for the rupture in what was otherwise a carefully tended wall. Someone must have spotted the two frozen duelists and decided to weaken Q'arlynd's school by ensuring the "accidental" deaths of two of its apprentices.
Q'arlynd couldn't wait for the debate to end. The second nomination had to be made null and void. Now.
He gripped the railing in front of him and took a deep breath. The moment there was a gap in the debate, he spoke. "I realize none but a master is permitted to speak, but there's something you must hear!" he said in a loud, clear voice. "Bae'qeshel magic is-"
Suddenly, Q'arlynd couldn't move. A sphere of glass, surrounded by solid stone, enclosed him.
A magical imprisonment! The favorite tactic, it was rumored, of Master Masoj-who supposedly was in full support of Q'arlynd's nomination. Q'arlynd hadn't felt the Master of Abjuration touch him-hadn't felt anyone touch him, for that matter. Yet the spell had been cast anyway.
Q'arlynd was trapped like a fly in amber. He couldn't cast spells, couldn't escape. He might never see Sshamath again, let alone realize his dream of being elevated to the Conclave.