As they flew off Zolaika's balcony, Chaumel sat bolt upright in his chariot, a smug expression on his face. «That was most satisfactory.»
«It was? She didn't say she'd support us,» Keff said.
«But she believes us. Everyone respects her, even the ones who are spelling for her position.» Chaumel made a cursory pass with one hand in the air to show what he meant. «Her belief in us will carry weight. Whether or not she actually says she supports us, she does by not saying she doesn't.»
«There speaks a diplomat,» Carialle said. «He makes pure black and white print into one of those awful moire paintings. Progress report: out of some two hundred and seventeen mages with multiple power items, I now have one hundred fifty-two frequency signatures. It is now theoretically possible for me to selectively intercept and deaden power emissions in each of those items.»
«Good going. We might need it,» Keff said, «but I hope not.»
With Zolaika four of the high mages had given tentative agreement to stand down power at the risk of losing it, but meetings with some of the lesser magifolk had not gone well. Potria had heard the first few sentences of Chaumel's discourse and driven them out of her home with a miniature dust storm. Harvel, the next most junior mage above Plenna, had accused her of trying to climb the social ladder over his head. When Chaumel explained that their traditional structure for promotion was a perversion of the ancestors' system, the insulted Harvel had done his best to kill all of them with a bombardment of lightning. Carialle turned off his two magic items, a rod and a ring, and left him to stew as the others effected a hurried withdrawal. «I think that among the remaining mages we can concentrate on the potential troublemakers,» Chaumel said as they materialized above his balcony. «Most of the others will not become involved. A hundred of them barely use their spells except to fetch and carry household items, or to power their flying chairs.»
«They'll miss it the most,» Keff said, «but at least they aren't the conspicuous consumers.»
«Oh, well put!» Chaumel said, chortling, as he docketed the phrase. «The 'conspicuous consumers' have been making us do most of the work for them. I laughed when Howet said he'd agree if we talked to his farm workers for him—Verni, what are you doing out here?»
Below them, clinging to the parapet of Chaumel's landing pad, was his chief servant. As soon as the magiman angled in to touch down, Verni ran toward him, wringing his hands.
«Master, High Mage Nokias is here,» he whispered as Chaumel rose from the chariot. «He is in the hall of antiquities. He has warded the ways in and out. I have been trapped out here for hours.»
«Nokias?» Chaumel said, sharing a puzzled glance with Keff and Plennafrey. «What does he want here? And warded?»
«Yes, master,» the servant said, winding his hands in his apron. «None of us can pass in or out until he lets down the barriers.»
«How strange. What can frighten a high mage?»
Chaumel strode through the great hall. The servant, Keff, and Plennafrey hurried after him, having to scoot to avoid the tall glass doors closing on their heels.
The silver mage stood back a pace from the second set of doors and felt the air cautiously. Then he moved forward and pounded with the end of his wand.
«High Mage!» he shouted. «It is Chaumel. Open the door! I have warded the outside ways.»
The door opened slightly, only wide enough for a human body to pass through. Chaumel beckoned to the others and slipped in. Keff let Plenna go first, then followed with the servant. No one was behind the door. It snapped shut as soon as they were all inside.
Nokias waited halfway down the hall, seated on the old hover-chair, his hands positioned and ready to activate his bracelet amulet. Even at a distance, Keff could see the taut skin around the mage's eyes.
«Old friend,» Chaumel said, coming forward with his hands open and relaxed. «Why the secrecy?»
«I had to be discreet,» Nokias said. «There's been an attempt on me at my citadel already. You've stirred up a fierce gale among the other mages, Chaumel. Many of them want your head. They're upset about your threats of destruction. Most of the others don't believe your data—they do not want to, that is all. I came to tell you that I cannot consider giving up my power. Not now.»
«Not now?» Keff echoed. «But you see the reasoning behind it. What's changed?»
«I do see the reasoning,» the Mage of the South said, «but there's revolt brewing in my farm caverns. I can't let go with violence threatened. People will die. The harvest will be ruined.»
«What has happened?» Chaumel asked.
Nokias clenched his big hands. «I have been speaking to village after village of my workers. Oh, many of them were not sure what I meant by my promises of freedom, but I saw sparks of intelligence there. The difficulties began only a day or so ago. My house servants report that, among the peasantry, there is fear and anger. They cry that they will not cooperate. It is stirring up the others. If I lose my ability to govern, there will be riots.»
«It's only their fear of the unknown,» Chaumel said smoothly. «They should rejoice in what you're offering them, the first high mage in twenty generations to change the way things are to the way things might be.»
«They cannot understand abstract thinking,» Nokias corrected him sternly.
«I will go and talk to them on your behalf, Nokias,» Chaumel said. «I've done so for Zolaika. Its only right I should also do it for you.»
«I would be grateful,» Nokias said. «But I will not appear in person.»
«You don't need to,» Chaumel assured him. «I and my friends here will take care of it.»
The farm village looked like any of the others Keff had seen, except that it also boasted an elderly but well cared for orchard as well as the usual fields of crops. A few lonely late fruit clung to the uppermost branches of the trees nearest the home cavern. Nokias's farmers were harvesting the next row's yield.
The Noble Primitives glanced warily at the three «magifolk» when they arrived, then went about their business with their heads averted, carefully keeping from making eye contact with them.
«Surely they are wondering what brings three mages here,» Keff said.
«They dare not ask,» Plenna said. «It isn't their place.»
Chaumel looked at the sun above the horizon. «It's close enough to the end of the working day.»
He flung his hands over his head and the air around him filled with lights of blue and red. Like will-o'-the-wisps the sparks scattered, surrounding the farmers, dancing at them to make them climb down from the trees, gathering them toward the three waiting by the cavern entrance. Keff, flanking Chaumel on the left, watched it all with the admiration due a consummate showman. Plennafrey stood demure and proud on Chaumel's right.
«Good friends!» Chaumel called out to them when the whole village was assembled. «I have news for you from your overlord Nokias!»
In slow, majestic phrases, Chaumel outlined the events to come when the workers would have greater capacity to think and to do. «You look forward to something unimaginable by your parents and grandparents. You workers will have greater scope than any since the ancestors came to Ozran.»
«Uh-oh,» Carialle said to Keff. «Someone out there is not at all happy to see you. I'm noting heightened blood pressure and heartbeat in someone in the crowd. Give me a sweep view and I'll try to spot them.»