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“We’ll be told when we need to know,” Khadgar muttered, stomping into the library. His notes and histories were scattered on the tables, where he left them last. He looked at them, and the schematics of his vision-summoning spell. He had made a few amendments since his last attempt, hoping to temporally refine its results.

Khadgar looked at the notes and smiled. Then he picked up his vials of crushed gemstones, and headed downward—putting additional floors between himself and Medivh’s audience chamber—to one of the abandoned dining halls.

Two levels lower was perfect. An ellipsoid of a room with stone fireplaces at each end, the great table put into service elsewhere, the ancient chairs lined across the wall from the single entrance. The floor was white marble, old and cracked but kept clean by Moroes’s relentless industry and drive.

Khadgar laid out a magic circle of amethyst and rose quartz, still grinning as he laid out the lines. He was confident in his castings now, and did not need his ceremonial conjuration robes for luck. As he laid out the pattern of protection and abjuration, he smiled again. He was already shaping the energy within his mind, calling the required shades and types of magic, conforming them to their requisite shape, holding that fertile energy in abeyance until it was needed.

He stepped within the circle, spoke the words that needed to be spoken, made the motions with his hands in perfect harmony, and unleashed the energy within his mind. He felt the release as something connected within his mind and soul, and he called the magic forth.

“Show me what is happening in Medivh’s quarters,” he said, his mind giving off a nervous tic, hoping that the Guardian’s wards did not apply to his apprentice.

Immediately, he knew the spell had gone wrong. Not in a major fashion, with the magical matrices collapsing upon themselves, but in a slight misfire. Perhaps the wards did work against him, redirecting his vision elsewhere, to another scene.

He knew he was off by several clues. First off, it was now daylight, Second, it was warm. And last, the location was familiar.

He had not been here before, exactly, at least not in this particular spire, but it was clear he was at Stormwind Keep, overlooking the city below. This was one of the taller spires, and the room was similar in general design to that where the two members of the Order had met their end months earlier. Yet here the windows were large and opened onto great white parapets, and a warm scented breeze stirred diaphanous draperies. Multicolored birds perched within golden hoops around the perimeter of the room.

Before Khadgar a small table was set with white porcelain plates edged with gold, the knifes and forks made of the precious metal as well. Crystal bowls held fruits—fresh and unblemished, the morning dew still clinging to the dimples of the strawberries. Khadgar felt his stomach rumble slightly at the sight.

Around the table hovered a thin man unknown to Khadgar, narrow-faced and wide-foreheaded, with a slender moustache and goatee. He was draped in an ornate red quilt that Khadgar realized must be a dressing gown, cinched at the waist with a golden belt. He touched one of the forks, moving it a molecule’s length sideways, then nodded in satisfaction. He looked up at Khadgar and smiled.

“Ah, you are awake,” he said in a voice that almost sounded familiar to Khadgar as well.

For an instant, Khadgar thought that this vision could see him, but no, the man was addressing someone behind him. He turned to see Aegwynn, as youthful and beautiful as she had been on the snowfield. (Was it earlier than that date? Later? He could not tell from her appearance.) She wore a white cape with green lining, but this was made of silk now, not fur, and her feet were shod not in boots but in simple white sandals. Her blond hair was held in place with a silver diadem.

“You seem to have gone to a great deal of trouble,” she said, and her face was unreadable to Khadgar.

“With sufficient magic and desire, nothing is impossible,” said the man, and turned over his hand, palm upward. Floating above his palm, a white orchid bloomed.

Aegwynn took the flower, raised it perfunctorily to her nose, then set it down on the table. “Nielas…” she began.

“Breakfast first,” said the mage Nielas. “See what a court conjurer may whip up first thing in the morning. These berries were picked from the royal gardens not more than a hour ago….”

“Nielas,” Aegwynn said again.

“Followed by slices of butter-fed ham and syrup,” continued the mage.

“Nielas,” Aegwynn repeated.

“Then perhaps some eggs of thevrocka, poached at the table in the shells by a simple spell I learned out on the isles…” said the mage.

“I am leaving,” said Aegwynn, simply.

A cloud passed over the mage’s face. “Leaving? So soon? Before breakfast? I mean, I thought we would have a chance to talk further.”

“I am leaving,” said Aegwynn. “I have my own tasks to complete, and little time for the pleasantries of the morning afterward.”

The court conjurer still looked confused. “I thought that after last night you would want to remain in the castle, at Stormwind, for a while.” He blinked at the woman, “Wouldn’t you?”

“No,” said Aegwynn. “Indeed, after last night, there is no need for me to remain at all. I have attained what I have come here for. There is no need for me to stay any longer.”

In the present, Khadgar winced as the pieces fell into place. Of course the mage’s voice sounded familiar.

“But I thought…” stammered the mage Nielas, but the Guardian shook her head.

“You, Nielas Aran, are an idiot,” said Aegwynn simply. “You are one of the mightiest sorcerers in the Order of Tirisfal, and yet, you remain an idiot. That says something about the rest of the Order.”

Nielas Aran bridled. He meant to look irritated, but only looked petulant. “Now, wait a moment….”

“Surely you did not think that your natural charms alone brought me to your chamber, nor that your wit and sense of whimsy distracted me from our discussion of conjuration rites? Surely you realize that I cannot be impressed by your position as court conjurer like some village cowherd would? And surely you must realize that seduction works both ways? You are not that big an idiot, are you, Nielas Aran?”

“Of course not,” said the court conjurer, clearly stung by her words but refusing to admit it. “I just thought that, like civilized people, we might share a moment of breakfast.”

Aegwynn smiled, and Khadgar saw that it was a cruel smile. “I am as old as many dynasties, and got over my girlish indulgences early in my first century. I knew fully what I was doing coming to your chambers last night.”

“I thought…” said Nielas. “I just thought…” He struggled for the right words.

“That you, of all the Order, would be the one to charm and tame the great, wild Guardian?” said Aegwynn, the smile growing wider. “That you could break her to your will, where all the others had failed, through your charm and wit and parlor tricks? Harness the power of the Tirisfalen to your own chariot? Come now, Nielas Aran. You have wasted much of your potential as it is, do not tell me that life in the royal court has corrupted you utterly. Leave me some respect for you.”

“But if you weren’t impressed,” said Nielas, his mind wrapping around what Aegwynn was saying, “if you didn’t want me, then why did we…”

Aegwynn provided the answer. “I came to Stormwind for one thing I could not provide for myself, a suitable father to my heir. Yes, Nielas Aran, you can tell your fellow mages in the Order that you managed to bed the great and mighty Guardian. But you will also have to tell them that you provided me with a way of passing on my power without the Order having any further say in it.”