«I would rather not be recognized,» Brannel said definitely. «No one will shoot fire at a target that cannot be seen.»
«No one is going to shoot fire,» Keff said. «There isn't enough power left out there to light a match.»
«What is going on here?» Ilnir roared, projecting his voice over the hubbub of voices and the hum of machinery. «I am not accustomed to being summoned, nor to waiting while peasants confer!»
«Why has the silver tower been moved to this place?» a mage called out. «Doesn't it belong to the East?»
«Why will my items of power not function?» a lesser magess of Zolaika's contingent complained. «Chaumel, are you to blame for all this?»
«High Ones, mages and magesses,» the silver magiman said smoothly. «Events over the past weeks have culminated in this meeting today. Ozran is changing. You may perhaps be disappointed in some of the changes, but I assure you they are for the better—in fact, they are inexorable, so your liking them will not much matter in the long run. My friend Keff will explain.» He turned a hand toward the Central Worlder.
«We have brought you here today to see this,» Keff said, pitching his voice to carry to the outermost ranks of mages. This"—he patted the nearest upthrust piece of conduit—"is the Core of Ozran.»
«Ridiculous!» Lacia shouted down at him from well up in the eastern contingent. «The Core is not this thing. This is a toy that makes noise.»
«Do not dismiss this toy too quickly, Magess,» Chaumel called. «Without it you'd have had to walk here. None of you have ever seen it before, but it has been here, working beneath the crust of Ozran for thousands of years. It is the source of our power, and it is on the edge of breaking down.»
«You've been misusing it,» Keff said, then raised his hands to still the outcry. «It was never meant to maintain the needs of a mass social order of wizards. It was intended"—he had to shout to be heard over the rising murmurs—"as a weather control device! It's supposed to control the patterns of wind, rain, and sunshine over your fields. We have asked you here so you will understand why you're being asked to stop using your items of power. If you don't, the Core will drain this planet of life faster and faster, and finally blow up, taking at least a third of the planetary surface with it. You'll all die!»
«We're barely using it now,» Omri shouted. «We need more than this trickle.» A chorus of voices agreed with him.
«This is the time, when everyone can see the direct results, to give up power and save your world. Chaumel has talked to each one of you, shown you pictures. You've all had time to think about it. Now you know the consequences. It isn't whether or not the Core will explode. It's when!»
«But how will we govern?» the piping voice of Zolaika asked. The room quieted immediately when she spoke. «How will we keep the farms going? If the workers don't have us in charge of everything they won't work.»
«They don't need you in charge of everything, Magess. Stop using the docility drugs and you'll find that you won't need to herd them like sheep,» Keff said. They'll become innovators, and Ozran will see the birth of a civilization like it has never known. You're dumbing down potential sculptors, architects, scientists, doctors, teachers. The only thing you'll have to concentrate on,» Keff said with a smile, «is to teach them to cook for themselves. Maybe you can send out some of your kitchen staff, after you build them stoves—geothermal energy is available under every one of those home caverns. You could have communal kitchens in each one of the farmsteads in a week. After that, you can discontinue all the energy you use in food distribution.»
Keff urged Brannel to center stage. «Speak up. Go on. You wanted to, before.»
«Magess,» Brannel began shyly, then bawled louder when several of the mages complained they couldn't hear him. «Magess, we need more rain! We workers could grow more food, bigger, if we have more rain, and if you do not have battles so often.» At the angry murmuring, he was frightened and started to retreat, but Keff eased him back to his place.
«Listen to him!» Nokias roared. Brannel swallowed, but continued bravely.
«I . . . the life goes out of the plants when you use much magic near us. We care for the soil, we till it gently and water with much effort, but when magic happens, the plants die.»
«Do you understand?» Keff said, letting Brannel retreat at last. The Noble Primitive huddled nervously against an upright of the control platform, and Plennafrey patted his arm. «Your farmers know what's good for the planet—and you're preventing their best efforts from having any results by continuing your petty battles. Let them have more responsibility and more support, and less interference with the energy flow, and I think you'll be pleasantly surprised by the results.»
«You go on and on about the peasants,» Asedow shouted. «We've heard all about the peasants. But what are they doing here?» The green-clad magiman pointed at the frogs.
Keff smiled.
«This is the most important discovery we've made since we started to investigate the problems with the Core. When Carialle and I arrived on Ozran, we hoped to find a sentient species the equal of our own, with superior technological ability. We were disappointed to find that you mages weren't it.» He raised his voice above the expected plaint. «No, not that you're backward! We discovered that you are human like us. We're the same species. We've found in you a long-lost branch of our own race.»
«You are Ozran?»
«No! You are Central Worlders. Your people came to Ozran a thousand years ago aboard a ship called the Bigelow. That's the reason why I could translate the tapes and papers they left behind. The language is an ancient version of my own. No, Carialle and I still managed to achieve our goal. We have found our equal race.»
«Where?» someone shouted. Keff held up his hands.
«You know all about the Ancient Ones and the Old Ones. You know what the Old Ones looked like. There are images of them in many of your strongholds. Your grandparents told you horror stories, and you've seen the holographs Chaumel had me play for you from the record tapes saved by your ancestors. But you've never seen the Ancient Ones. You know they built the Core of Ozran and founded the system on which your power has been based for ten centuries. These,» he said, with a triumphant flourish toward the Frog Prince and his assistants, «are the Ancient Ones.»
«Never!» Ferngal cried, his red face drawn into a furious mask.
Over shouts of disbelief, Keff blasted from the bottom of his bull-like chest:
«These people have been right here under your nose for ten centuries. These are the Ancient Ones who invented the Core and all the items of power.»
The murmuring died away. For a moment there was complete silence, then hysterical laughter built until it filled the vast cavern. Keff maintained a polite expression, not smiling. He gestured to the Frog Prince.
The amphibioid stepped forward and began to sign the discourse he had prepared with Keff's help. It was eloquent, asking for recognition and promising cooperation. The mages recognized the ancient signs, their eyes widening in disbelief. Gradually, the merriment died down. Every face in the circle showed shock. They stared from Tall Eyebrow to Keff.
«You're not serious, are you?» Nokias asked. Keff nodded. «These are the Ancient Ones?»
«I am perfectly serious. Chaumel will tell you. They helped me—directed me—on how to make temporary repairs to the Core. It was overheating badly. It'll take a long time to get it so it won't blow up if overused. I couldn't do it by myself. I've never seen some of these components before. Friends, this machine is brilliant. Human technology has yet to find a system that can pull electrical energy out of the solid matter around it without creating nuclear waste. What you see here at my side is the descendant of some of the dandiest scientists and engineers in the galaxy, and they've been living in the marshes like animals since before your people came here.»