Waylian’s eyes swept over them: Hoylen Crabbe, dark haired and severe; Crannock Marghil, his ancient face peering down over thin eyeglasses; Drennan Folds, his hirsute features set in a permanent state of rage, his eyes, one blue and one white, furious as ever; Nero Laius looking amiable, though Waylian had seen him demonstrate his power first hand and knew he was not to be taken lightly; and finally young Lucen Kalvor, who might perhaps be the most dangerous of all.
As Gelredida came to stand before them, Drennan Folds leaned forward, shaking his head, his impressive chin whiskers quivering as he did so.
‘Here again?’ he said, his furious expression softening to one of feigned amusement. ‘Have we not already given you our answer, Gelredida? Or do you come on another matter?’
‘No, Drennan,’ she replied. ‘I have come once more to ask that you all see sense. Amon Tugha will not stop until Steelhaven is ashes. The Wyvern Guard have already come down from their mountain holdfast to defend us. With the aid of the Tower of Magisters there is no way the Elharim could breach the city walls. There is nothing to fear if you stand beside the defenders of this city. Do nothing and you will all surely die.’
‘You cannot say that with any certainty,’ said Crannock Marghil, peering over his spectacles with rheumy eyes. ‘There is no way you could be sure of the outcome were we once again to pool our powers in defence of the Free States.’
Gelredida shook her head. ‘I know the consequences were you all to sit on your hands, Crannock. It would mean your doom, and the doom of every man, woman and child within the walls of Steelhaven.’
‘You have had our answer, Red Witch,’ said Hoylen Crabbe. ‘We are neutral in this.’ He glanced down, as though his words had shamed him, yet maintained the perpetual frown about his brow. ‘We sympathise, but there is too much at stake.’
‘What, Hoylen?’ said Gelredida. ‘What could be at stake? What could matter more than the safety of this city? The safety of the queen, her people? What is it that you all fear …?’ She paused, looking at them all in turn. Then she nodded as though realising the reasons for their cowardice. ‘He has truly cowed you all — the great Archmasters, the Crucible, scared into inaction by a single Elharim prince. You are the greatest casters in all the known world! Where is your courage?’
Her shout echoed from the top of the chamber.
None of the Archmasters responded.
Gelredida took a step closer. ‘Drennan,’ she said, almost pleadingly. ‘There is no love lost between us, but surely you can see we must fight?’ He would not look at her. ‘Hoylen.’ She took a step closer to the stern Archmaster. ‘You helped me before, helped me save this city, this land, from the Aeslanti. If that was worth anything you must help me now.’ He only shook his head and she moved on. ‘Crannock, look inside yourself. You know we cannot trust the Elharim. You know I’m right.’
The old man reached up a quivering hand and pulled the eyeglasses from his face.
‘We appreciate everything you have done for this city, and not just in recent times,’ he said. ‘Your strength and your wisdom have been invaluable to us. But we cannot act.’
She took a step back, her fists clenching in her red velvet gloves, the ones she had taken to wearing so many weeks before when Waylian had left for the Kriega Mountains. ‘Cowards! Cowards all of you! I wonder if you’ll even find the breath to defend yourselves when the Elharim outcast comes for your heads, for he will brook no rivalry to his power, mark me. He will not suffer any of you to live.’
‘Have you finished with your doomsaying, woman?’ said Lucen Kalvor, clearly tired of Gelredida’s chastisement.
‘Not yet,’ she replied, and she stared at the young Archmaster until he could hold her gaze no longer. ‘I would have you think on this for a time. Think on your fate should you do nothing. Then I would have you vote.’
‘But we have already given you our answer,’ said Crannock.
‘I think some of you may change your minds as the horde nears the gates. And I would give you each the chance to reconsider.’
‘We can vote right here and now,’ said Hoylen Crabbe.
‘No. It is my right as a member of the Caste to demand a vote, and at a time of my choosing. And I choose five days from now.’
There was silence.
Waylian wasn’t familiar with the protocol involved, he was not yet a member of the Caste, but it appeared Gelredida spoke true. The Archmasters regarded one another before Drennan said, ‘Very well. Five days from now, but our minds are already made.’
Gelredida looked back and smiled. ‘I am confident good sense will come to you all in the end.’
With that she turned to leave. Waylian was once again fast on her heels.
They walked from the Crucible Chamber, and Gelredida led the way back through the tower to her room at the top of those winding stairs. Waylian had remembered her chamber being spick and span when he left so many weeks ago, but those weeks must have been troubling for Gelredida. Now the room was a jumble of parchments and books. Quills, ink and other paraphernalia were scattered across her large desk, every shelf and surface strewn with one piece of clutter or another.
Gelredida sat in her chair and steepled her fingers.
‘There is much to do, Waylian,’ she said, clearly deep in thought.
‘Then I’ll leave you in peace, Magistra,’ he replied, turning to go.
‘No, Waylian. I mean there is much for us to do.’
‘Us, Magistra?
A smile crept across her face. If he didn’t know better he’d have sworn there was a trace of sadism in that smile. Hadn’t she already put him through enough?
Clearly not.
‘I have bought us some time. Nothing more. The way things stand the Archmasters will never agree to put their weight behind Steelhaven’s defence. They are frightened of what they might lose. They must be persuaded there is more to fear than this warlord.’
‘But what could they possibly fear? And what does that have to do with us?’
Or, more to the point, with me?
‘We have five days to put our case across. Five days to persuade our illustrious Archmasters to come to the right decision. Of course we don’t need this to be unanimous — three in favour will seal their compliance — but let’s not hedge our bets.’
‘I don’t understand.’
‘No.’ She rose to her feet. ‘But then you don’t have to. Trust, Waylian. Trust is all you need. And to do exactly what I tell you. Come,’ she said, leading him out of the room.
Waylian began to think it wouldn’t be long before she got him a collar. A nice studded one. Or maybe something with jewels in; gemstones for the Magistra’s favourite pet.
They made their way down through the Tower of Magisters, down below the entrance hall, down into the bowels of the massive construction. The stairs wound down, guarded here and there by imposing Raven Knights. The passages down below twisted in a labyrinthine pattern and Waylian soon found himself hopelessly lost.
Eventually, Gelredida led them through a creaky wooden door into a musty chamber. It was freezing, and lit scantly by tall red candles. An old man seated in one corner looked up suddenly from his dusty old tome as they entered.
‘You’re here,’ he said in surprise. Gelredida didn’t answer, merely waiting there as the man closed his book. ‘I’ll be off then,’ he said despondently, walking past Waylian and, with a shrug of his eyebrows, leaving the room.
Waylian might have felt sorry for the man, but he’d had more than his share of being treated like shit by the Red Witch, so it was a bit much to expect any sympathy from him when someone else was on the receiving end.
As he focused through the gloom and saw what awaited them in the chamber, his shoulders sagged. Not again. Hadn’t he had his fill? Just how much death was one person supposed to endure?