Jarrod asked.

"Certainly. But the extension of our influence east- ward is the best thing that could happen for us. Do us a lot more good in the long run than this rubble-clearing effort of yours. What you don't seem to understand is that if you give Varodias what he wants, all you're do- ing is forcing him to pick another fight."

"Are you saying that another war is inevitable?" Jar- rod asked, unwilling to hear Holdmaster Gwyndryth's opinion confirmed.

Ragnor sipped on his sack and then pursed his lips as if to consider the question. "Nooo. We could have the b.a.s.t.a.r.d a.s.sa.s.sinated. He's killed off the only sons

96 he had that showed a sc.r.a.p of talent. The remaining boy is a weakling. The ensuing struggle for the throne would probably occupy the country for a good twenty years. It would, at the very least, provide a breathing s.p.a.ce."

"But Varodias is a duly consecrated monarch," Jar- rod said, eyes widening.

"Spare me/' Ragnor said witheringly. ''You sound like a Maternite. You can't be that naive. Consecration, as you call it, usually comes from blood on a sword."

Jarrod took a deep breath. "If the Concordat is rat- ified, we become one of his prime targets."

"Of course/' the Archmage agreed, "but then we always have been. They loathe the Isphardis, but Um- brians think that we are unnatural. Magic violates the rules of what they consider to be science, and the Ma- ternite Church considers us anathema. Without the mortar of a common enemy, conflict is bound to occur.

Songuard and Isphardel are a natural buffer between us, and it would be the ultimate folly to allow the Em- pire to absorb them.''

"I can't say that I care for your a.n.a.lysis, Archmage, but I can't fault it," Jarrod said placatingly, wondering as he did if Ragnor had wandered off the beam again.

"I shan't live to see it, the G.o.ds be thanked, but we shall have to face the Empire one of these days. Perhaps our presence in the east will delay it."

"Well, that's still up in the air," Jarrod said. "The Oligarchs haven't agreed and the new terms of the treaty haven't been voted on."

"Olivderval speaks for the Oligarchs," Ragnor said decisively. "As far as the treaty is concerned, Arundel and Talisman will follow our lead. It really doesn't mat- ter which way Naxania decides to go, though it would be nice if the Magical Kingdoms could present a united front. It might be an additional deterrent."

97.

"Do I construe that as an order?" Jarrod asked with as much lightness as he could muster.

"Oh, I think you might," Ragnor replied, matching him, and in that instant Jarrod knew that not only was the Archmage in control of all his faculties, but that he was aware of Jarrod's doubts. "Now let's discuss this demonstration," the old man continued. "I think it's important that Greylock play the leading role. It will enhance his reputation and he'll need that to a.s.sure his succession. I hate to say this, but he's been too quiet too long."

"Of course he'll play the leading role. After all, the whole thing was his idea/' Jarrod said mendaciously.

"That's what he's here for."

"Good. Exactly how do you, ah, does he intend to carry out the ceremony?"

Ragnor sat back and listened, sipping absently, while ^Jarrod laid out the details. When he had finished, the Archmage pushed his spectacles higher on his nose and said, "I'll have myself carried up to the Causeway in a sedan chair." He grinned, showing the few remaining teeth. "It's not as much work for them as it used to be;

still, it'll make a nice change and I'll be able to wear something fancy." He looked over at Jarrod and his eyes twinkled behind the circles of gla.s.s.

"I don't suppose you brought anything decent to wear? No, I thought not. That plain blue gown has be- come quite an affectation with you. Never mind, it'll be quite like old times. You, me, the Gwyndryth girl and a unicorn."

"Marianna?" Jarrod said, surprised. "Is she at Ce- lador?".

"Yes indeed. Came to see that boy of hers. Dropped by to pay her respects. She's grown into a deucedly handsome woman. You should have married her when you had the chance." He finished his wine and put the

98 cup down. He settled himself and the head began to droop. "Odd that she should have produced a Magi- cian," he said, the voice soft and m.u.f.fled, "but you never know about that sort of thing. Errathuel's blood turns up in the unlikeliest places. . . ." The voice faded away and the chin sagged.

Jarrod got up quietly and put his chair back against the wall. He returned his cup to the sideboard and then went and removed the Archmage's spectacles and put them on the table beside him. As he went back down the stairs he was pleased with the thought that Mar- ianna was visiting the capital. It had been five years, he realized, since he had seen her last. Ragnor was right, it was somehow fitting that they all be together for this occasion. He would have to see to it that she got a good seat.

He saw her at Hall that same night, as he had-.half expected to. Ragnor's eye for a pretty face was still un- dimmed. She was a beautiful woman. Slim still, though a mite less so than the portrait that memory held. The red-gold hair rippled past her shoulders. She wore a dark green gown, cut square across the bust. A very large emerald hung on a thick gold chain, emerald tear- drops peeked out from under the hair and her waist was girdled by a hammered-gold belt that was studded with jewels. Jarrod was shy about wearing any of the things that he had brought back from the Island at the Center, but Marianna obviously had no such inhibitions. He waved to her and she smiled back. ,

They were both in the withdrawing room after the meal, where Arabella, Queen since her marriage, re- ceived the important guests, but again they could not talk, at least not right away. Greylock and Jarrod got the first ten minutes of the Queen's conversation.

Though this was ritual, a ritual that she had repeated 99.

endlessly since she was thirteen, Arabella had the knack of making people feel that she was genuinely pleased to see them and valued the opportunity of hearing their opinion on whatever topic she chose to bring up. As a member of the High Council of Magic, she had no shortage of interests in common with the two Mages.

That she also managed to make them laugh was a trib- ute to her skill. She then pa.s.sed them smoothly on to her Consort,

Saxton Horbinger was tall for an Untalented, coming up to Jarrod's shoulder. He was broad-chested, narrow- waisted and had enviable calf muscles. Jarrod surmised that it was for that reason that long, white hose had become the fashion at Court. He was fair-haired like his wife, had well-set hazel eyes, a straight nose flanked by high cheekbones. The chin was firm and dimpled and the lips were a little too large for perfection, lending the face a sensual air. It was obvious to the people who saw him in person, or his likeness on broadsheets, why Ar- abella, after resisting the Council's prodding to produce an heir and secure the succession for so long, had cho- sen him. The people approved.

Saxton Horbinger was also Holdmaster of Thorp, with lands adjacent to the royal estates. He had fought in the battle against the invading Outlanders and, in the five years he had been married to Arabella, had fa- thered three sons. Jarrod had met him once before, at the wedding, and had dismissed him as an amiable lum- mox picked for his looks. He had heard since that Ar- abella discussed matters of state with him and that he had considerable influence with her. He made the re- quired bow and prepared to observe. The Consort's opening remark to Greylock surprised him.

"It is good to see you again, my Lord Mage. It has been too long, for friendship's sake, of course, but also

100 for you. Celador is the center of the Discipline and the next Archmage should not be such a stranger."

"Your Royal Highness does me too much honor,"

Greylock replied, the deep voice making the intonations of the formal mode sing. "I am but a Mage among others and Ragnor is far from ready to go."

Prince Saxton-the t.i.tle had been conferred upon him when he married-smiled. It was an open, friendly smile. "Were I a wagering man, I should put my money on you," he said. "I still think that it is an excellent thing that you have honored Celador with this demon- stration of the Discipline's prowess." He turned to Jar- rod. "Will you be a.s.sisting the Mage of Paladine, Excellence?"

"Indeed, Your Royal Highness," Jarrod replied, "though I shall be doing nothing more than coordinat- ing the efforts of the other Magicians."

The Consort's smile grew broader, and there was a disconcerting glint in the eyes. "Power cloaked in hu- mility is an extremely effective combination, would you not agree?" He addressed the remark to Greylock.

"Only the naked truth is stronger, sir," Greylock re- sponded. Their eyes held for a beat, and then the Con- sort turned again to Jarrod.

"We thank you for your last naming gift. Excel- lence," he said. "Young Harrald played with it for nigh on a month which, for a baby, even a royal baby, is a remarkable span."

Jarrod began to mumble something, but noticed that the Consort's eyes had slipped past him to the people in line behind. He bowed instead and Greylock and he moved on.

"What do you think of the Prince Consort?" he asked once they were clear.

"I think the Queen made a remarkably shrewd

THE UNICORN PEACE t 101

choice," Greylock replied. "And now that we've done our duty, I intend to retire. Are you going to stay?"

"I'd like to have a word with Marianna." Jarrod said.

"It's been a while since I've seen her."

"Very well, but try not to stay up too late. The dem- onstration's only two days off and I need you to be fresh. You heard what the Prince said. I'm going to have to prove myself and you and I know that I can't do it without you." Greylock's tone was soft, but ur- gent.

"The operation's been going very smoothly for three sennights," Jarrod said rea.s.suringly. "They could do the whole thing without us."

"Don't take things for granted," Greylock retorted.

"Mind me- Don't stay up talking till all hours."