"Then let’s say he died trying to save me and leave it at that."
"Sparrow, you never cease to amaze me," Bal-Simba rumbled. "You grow constantly in wisdom."
Wiz snorted. "Too schoon ve get old und too late schmart." Then he sobered. "I just hope it really isn’t too late. I made a royal mess of things this time."
"Things are in an, ah, ’interesting’ state," Bal-Simba agreed. "But certainly not beyond hope."
Twenty-Two: Mending Fences
Good client relations are the key to a successful project.
The Mighty in the Capital gathered in the chantry the next morning in no very good mood. They knew that Wiz had been kidnapped by magic and they knew Ebrion was dead. Some of them, guiltily remembering old conversations and half-dropped hints, suspected very strongly the two events were not unconnected. Most of them didn’t know enough to suspect, but they had an uneasy feeling that someone’s head was on the block.
As the blue-robed men and women took their seats in the carved throne-like chairs around the room they murmured and muttered among themselves. Bal-Simba had commanded this meeting, but obviously the Sparrow was the one who would do the talking.
Wiz stood up as soon as Bal-Simba called them to order.
"This isn’t easy for me to say," Wiz looked out over the assembled group. "But you were right and I was wrong. I am sorry. No matter how my magic compiler turns out, humans are still going to need your wisdom and your sense of restraint. I was so wrapped up in the technical details I couldn’t see that.
"My blindness has had very serious consequences. Now I can only hope to undo the damage I have done."
He took a deep breath and went on. "I can’t change the past, none of us can. But we can put it aside and go on from there. I’m asking you to work with me, both with the problems we have right now and in the long run.
"I hope that we can work together in spite of what happened in the past. We need each other." He paused. "At least, I need you. Thank you for listening." With that he stepped away from the podium to a smattering of applause.
"What of Ebrion?" someone called from the back of the room. Suddenly there was dead silence. The Mighty froze where they were and everyone looked at Wiz.
Wiz licked his lips. "I am sorry to say Ebrion is dead. He was a good man and he always acted in the way he believed was right. He was killed trying to protect me."
There was an almost audible sigh from the assembled wizards.
Several of the Mighty crowded around afterwards. The first to reach him was Malus. "Well, my boy," Malus said. "Well, well." Then the fat little wizard hugged Wiz to him.
"The fault was hardly yours alone, Lord," Juvian said, stepping up to him. "We have had our blindnesses." Several of the others pressed forward to offer their support as well, and for several minutes Wiz, Moira and the wizards stood making strained small talk.
"If you will excuse me, My Lords," Wiz said at last, "I have to meet with the programming team this afternoon and I want to get something to eat before then."
Malus followed them out. "I wanted you to see something," he said once they were alone in the corridor. "Your friend Karl has been teaching us while you were gone." He shook his head. "It is hard, very hard, this new magic of yours, but I have been practicing and, well… greeting exe."
Suddenly, written between them in glowing green letters six inches high was:
HELLO WORLD
"It is my first spell with the new magic," Malus said shyly. "How do you like it?"
Wiz grinned, Moira hugged the tubby little wizard and kissed him on the cheek.
"I think that’s wonderful, My Lord," she said, "and I’m sure Wiz does too."
"It’s great," Wiz agreed. It’s one of the best presents I could have had. Thank you, Malus."
"That speech has to be the hardest thing I ever did," Wiz said as they made their way back to their chamber.
Moira squeezed his hand more tightly. "Perhaps it was also the bravest."
He put his arm around her waist and kissed her. Then he opened the door and ushered her back into their apartment.
"The place looks bare with all my notes and stuff gone," he said, looking over at the table beneath the window.
"They went to a good home," Moira told him. Personally she thought it was a great improvement, but she wasn’t going to say so now.
"What have we got to eat? I’m starved and it smells wonderful."
Moira brought the dishes out of the cupboard where they had been magically kept warm. "I had luncheon sent up from the kitchens. Beef barley soup, roast beef, potatoes and bread and cheese."
"Heaven."
Wiz ate ravenously, enough for three normal men. Moira contented herself with a cup of soup and watched him pack the food away.
"Well," he said pushing away from the table at last, "that was wonderful, but I need to go meet the programmers."
Moira shook out her mane of copper-colored hair. "I was hoping you could spend some time with me this afternoon," she said softly.
"I’d like to darling, but I’ve got to get up to speed on this."
Moira put her arms around his neck. "Won’t it keep for a while?"
"Look, I really do need to get to the team meeting." Moira melted against him and pressed her lips to his for a long, slow kiss.
"Of course," he said as the kiss ended, "I could always tell them I was held captive by a wicked witch."
Moira opened her green eyes wide. "Wicked, My Lord?"
Wiz pulled her to him. "Darling, when you get going you’re the wickedest witch that ever was."
As always the Council of the North met in the morning. However this time Wiz was sitting in the center of the long wooden table, next to Bal-Simba and he was anything but bored with the proceedings.
"… so that’s it," he concluded. "Unless we can curb the invasion of the Wild Wood and stop people from using demon_debug we are going to have a war."
For once there were no objections from Honorious, no sniping from Juvian and no clarifications from Agricolus. Every man and woman at the table looked grave.
Juvian, who oversaw the Council’s dealings with the hedge witches, pursed his lips. "All easier said than done, I fear. The villagers prefer demon_debug because it is so effective against magic."
"ddt is just as effective and a lot less harmful to the environment. We’ve got to get them to use it instead of demon_debug."
The sorcerer rubbed a pudgy hand over a jowl. "That will not be easy, Lord. We do not have the authority we once had."
"They’ll listen to you if they ever want another bit of magic out of me," Wiz said firmly. "Look, this has got to stop. Unless magic is actively dangerous it is not to be destroyed."
Juvian shook his head. "I do not know, Lord."
"Just tell them that if they don’t stop, I’ll come there and start throwing lightning bolts."
"If you wish it we will, of course, but I do not know if they will listen to us."
"We have got to make them listen."
"We will do our best Lord, but it will be difficult."
"Okay," Wiz sighed, "what about limiting migration then?"
"That is not merely difficult, that is impossible," Honorious said. "The farms are too small and the soil is too poor. On that the peasants will not listen at all."