enough to help the Magicians on the ground below without making them feel unnecessary. Blocks of stone rose and deposited themselves, one by one, in the net.

The cloudsteeds beat their way higher, so that the view- ers on the Causeway had to crane their necks to see, and then hovered, the net swinging gently.

Nastrus, ever the showman, tossed his head so that the mane flew dramatically, and, behold, the stones were gone. The crowd gasped. The cloudsteeds dropped back out of sight. There was applause and cheers rang out.

The proceedure was repeated, but this time, just as Jar- rod was about to join in, be noticed that the runes on Greylock's gown had begun to move. The hairs on the back of his neck began to p.r.i.c.kle. The Mage was using

138 t JOHN LEE

his own power. Jarrod opened himself and, with infinite caution, fed a small amount of supporting energy to Greylock. The cloudsteeds appeared again and the heavy chunks of stone disappeared again. The third time Greylock had no need of Jarrod, and the younger man had a lump in his throat and felt the tears p.r.i.c.k at his eyelids. His mentor was in total control once more.

The demonstration lasted about half of an hour and was followed by a lavish reception. The Magicians, Jar- rod included, were made much of. The wine flowed and the whole thing had the feeling of a victory celebration.

At one point Jarrod found himself face-to-face with Dean Handrom.

"Excellent show," the Dean said. The man was ob- viously in good humor and Jarrod resolved to ask him about Joscelyn.

"Your fellows performed wonderfully well," he said.

"Indeed, they have been exemplary throughout this project. They are a credit to the Collegium and the Col- legium has, as always, been a credit to the Discipline."

He wondered, briefly, if he hadn't laid it on a little to thickly, but the Dean's satisfied smile had rea.s.sured him.

"While we have a minute," Jarrod said, "I under- stand that you are having a discipline problem with young Joscelyn of Gwyndryth. Since I was involved in his early training, I feel partially responsible."

"Yes, I can see that you would." Good humor or no, Handrom was incapable of keeping an ironic inflection out of the statement.

"His mother seems to think that he is in danger of being kicked out of the Collegium."

"That's what I intended for her to think," the Dean replied.

"And is he?"

"Not if I can help it. He's got too much potential and it's badly in need of molding and direction. You man- 139.

aged to get out without completing the course and you have attained high rank." There was no mistaking the disapproval. "That is extremely bad for the Collegium's morale and reputation. I have no intention of allowing it to become a trend."

"So I can tell Lady Gwyndryth that she has nothing to worry about," Jarrod said mildly.

"You will do no such thing," the Dean said sternly, the authoritarian Jone of the schoolmaster surfacing.

"The boy is headstrong, stubborn and disrespectful. One hopes that he will grow out of it, but he will need a firm hand, both here and at home.'* He paused. "I un- derstand that there is no father in residence. All the more reason for that woman to exert her parental au- thority and help to instill some sense of obligation, dis- cipline and manners in the boy. He has obviously been overindulged and that has to stop. You will oblige me by saying nothing to the mother."

Jarrod had his doubts, but he simply nodded and turned the conversation to the future supply of Magi- cians for the Causeway project.

When he saw Marianna after Hall, he told her that the Collegium hadn't given up on Joscelyn, but consid- ered that he needed firm handling when he was home for the holidays.

"He obviously takes after your side of the family,"

she had retorted.

"Headstrong, stubborn and disrespectful were the words that Handrom used," Jarrod had countered.

"Sounds just like his mother to me."

He had been joking, but things seemed to go downhill from there. He had expected to spend his last night with her, but Marianna had begged off, saying that she was leaving first thing in the morning and needed to get as much rest as possible.

140 "You'll let me know if..." he had said, not quite wanting to put it into words.

*TU write to you when I'm sure," she'd said coolly.

"Oh, and thank you."

She had smiled at him and pressed his hand briefly.

Then she had turned away and left him. Jarrod was not comfortable with the memory. Part of him had wanted to go after her and part of him was oddly relieved. There was also an element of anger. She had got what she wanted, as usual, and now she would ignore him until he became useful once more. He was still confused by the encounter. He had no right to feel cheated, espe- cially since he didn't know what he wanted.

He had tried to a.n.a.lyze his feelings toward both Mar- ianna and Joscelyn, now that he knew who the real father was. His feelings for Joscelyn were easier. He had always been fond of the boy and he still was. It was a good thing, though, that the youngster had moved on to the Collegium. Adolescence was traditionally the time of rebellion against authority and he was relieved, cow- ardly though that might be, that Joscelyn would have another target for those roiling feelings.

Real paternity, on the other hand, was something else again and he was a sea of contradiction on that subject.

He tried to dispel the crowding thoughts. Time enough to sort them out when and if Marianna became preg- nant. Now was not the time to be distracted by this anyway, he told himself. The all-important vote was scheduled for the morrow and that would change the future in a way that no single child could do.

Ragnor had a.s.sured him that Otorin of Lissen would side with the Isphardis and that pressure would be ap- plied to Queen Naxania to do likewise. The precise na- ture of that pressure was left deliberately vague. The Songeans had no love for the Empire, the eastern clans especially. Generations of their young men had been 141.

taken off to work in the Umbrian mines. If Ragnor was right, and there was no reason to think that he would not be, the Empire's proposal would be voted down.

What bothered Jarrod was the Archmage's other pre- dictions. Would it really mean war? If so, there ought to be some way to avoid it.

He got up and went around the room blowing out the lamps and snuffing the candles. Life had become extraordinarily complicated in the last month. He started to think about Marianna and the baby again.

When it came right down to it, he hoped that there would be a baby.

Malum of Quern was at his place at the scribes' table again. The sandbox, inkhorn and quills were all neatly arranged. He felt the tinglings of antic.i.p.ation. Today would be the day. The Isphardis would be put in their place, the part.i.tion would be ratified and a treaty drawn up. The Elector had spent an hour with Queen Naxania and had met with Lord Lissen. He had seemed happy with the outcome. The Songeans knew where their in- terests lay. Since it was a question of siding with one of two neighbors, who in their right minds would pick shiftless merchants over the power and tradition of Um- bria? It really didn't matter how Talisman and the Dis- cipline voted. It would be more satisfying if ratification was unanimous, but the final tally was what counted.

The Isphardis would be humbled and that was the necessary first step. With the Oligarchs discredited, and with no army or fortified places, the absorption of Son- guard should be easy. The Imperial garrison in Fort Bandor, coupled with the conquest of Isphardel, would give them de facto control of Songuard, and the Em- pire's effective sway would be extended to the Goro- dontiou Mountains. He smiled to himself. Perhaps they

142 couid change the name to something that fit more easily on an Umbrian tongue.

In any case, with the treaty signed, they would be returning to Angorn to bask in the Emperor's appro- bation. Not before time, either. His recent visit to the capital had shown him how little influence he had there.

The Elector was old and his son the Margrave had no taste for Court life. He would need some time to build a power base or find himself a new patron. A triumph at Stronta would be a good beginning and a broad knowledge of foreign conditions ought to be an advan- tage. His contemplations of the future were interrupted by a noise. He glanced up and saw Borr Sarad coming through the door. Looking, thought Malum, fit and vi- tal after the recess.

"Give you good morrow, my lord," Sarad said pleas- antly.

"May the best of the day be before us. Thane,"

Malum replied. "If this day's session goes well, our little contest may be at an end."

"Leave us hope that the G.o.ds are listening to your words. I enjoy these visits to Stronta, of course, but this has been going on for far too long and I would as lief be at home on my farm watching my sons work while I take my ease."

Matum smiled at him. "Will Talisman allow you to retire?" he asked.

"Hah." It was a derisive snort. "They turned me out of ofiice after twenty years. I only accepted this post because I wanted to travel and I thought that it would last no more than a couple of years."

"And how will your sons take to having their father watching them every day?" Malum said slyly.

Sarad c.o.c.ked his head and gave the Umbrian a beady look. "Good question, young man. I can still swing a scythe when the haymow is due and they'll be grateful 143.

for that, but they and their wives have always treated me as a honored guest on those rare occasions when I have been able to take time away from Fortress Talis- man." He paused and a slow smile raised the wrinkles round his eyes. "On the other hand," he said, "they always knew that I would be leaving before too long. I shall have to remember that both my sons are grown men and as set in their ways as I am in mine." The smiie broadened. "Still, there are the little ones. I am about to become a great-great-grandfather and, if noth- ing else, I can be useful watching bairns until I become one again."

"Fortunate bairns," Malum said. "I never knew my grandparents."

Their colloquy was brought to an end by the ap- proach of Darius of Gwyndryth. The two older men embraced warmly and Malum was forgotten for the moment.