To Light A Candle

wasted! This had better be worth my time.”

“Another will take your place,” Lycaelon said calmly. “Be seated, Lord Volpiril, and calm yourself. Because of your long service to the City—however misguided—I have brought you here tonight to offer you a choice.”

Whatever Volpiril might have been expecting to hear, obviously it was not this. He turned sideways, glancing back at Anigrel, who was still standing beside the door.

“I repose all confidence and trust in Anigrel. And what you will hear from him has every bearing on the decision you will make here,” Lycaelon said.

“Decision? What decision?” Volpiril demanded, sweeping his robes about himself and settling into the seat opposite the Arch-Mage’s desk. His pale eyes glittered with exasperation.

“Whether to give up your seat on the Council and retire utterly into private life. I am willing, in that case, to accept your oath and parole, providing you do nothing to interfere with Cilarnen’s trial and Banishment.”

“Cilarnen?” Lord Volpiril half-rose from his seat, thought better of it, and settled slowly back again. “What has the boy to do with anything? He is at home asleep in his bed.”

“He was arrested not two bells ago—for treason,” Lycaelon said. He smiled, gazing fully into his enemy’s eyes.

“Treason!” Volpiril leaned back in the low chair, visibly shaken. “I do not believe it. I will not believe it!”

“A dozen Mages saw him—and the cabal he had formed—preparing to make umbrastone,” Anigrel said, speaking for the first time. “There can be no doubt.”

“Where would he have gotten such a notion?” Lycaelon demanded, his grey eyes hard. “Where would he have gotten the materials—the information? There is only one place. Oh, he has not been questioned yet. Whether he is questioned… that is up to you.”

“But I am innocent! I knew nothing of this! Question me under Truthspell, and by the Light, I will give you your proof!” Volpiril demanded, his face the ashy grey of shock.

“My dear Setarion,” Lycaelon said, shaking his head ruefully. “I am certain that you no longer remember your part in this. No Truthspell would implicate you, as you well know. And I doubt young Cilarnen remembers who it was that set his foot upon the path to treason. But your recent actions in Council speak for themselves about your oft-professed love for the City.”

“My—recent—actions—” Suddenly Volpiril grew even paler, if that had been possible. Seen in the light of this, his demands to remove the protection of the City from the farmlands outside it, and the subsequent results, would look like the beginning of a plan to destroy Armethalieh.

“No. There is no profit to be had from this, Setarion, and the best you can hope for is to escape with your own skin intact,” said Lycaelon. “Either resign your seat, and retire utterly from public affairs, or I shall see you tried for treason beside your son. And when you are Banished with him—as you shall be—I shall see House Volpiril brought down to ruin, and all who bear your name shall live out their days in poverty and shame.”

Anigrel’s face was impassive. Lycaelon’s was almost as expressionless, but there was, perhaps, the trace of a gleam in his eye.

“Choose.”

Lord Volpiril got to his feet, trembling with rage, and perhaps—at last— even with fear.

“This is a plot,” he said, his voice hoarse with anger.

“Indeed,” Lycaelon said. “And your son was its instigator.”

“You leave me no choice.”

“There is always a choice,” the Arch-Mage said dispassionately.

There was a moment of tension, then Volpiril bowed his head.

“Very well,” he said in a low voice. “I resign.”

“And I have your oath that you will work no further treason?” Lycaelon asked silkily.

Volpiril’s head snapped up, and he took a quick step toward Lycaelon, fists clenched. For a moment Anigrel, watching, thought that Volpiril might actually attempt to strike the Arch-Mage, and regretted leaving the stone golems outside the door, but Lycaelon had judged the character of his enemy well.