Elvenborn

short order. Things could not possibly be better; at the moment, she really didn't want production going any faster. It wouldn't hurt trade to keep the Iron People waiting for their ingots just a little be­tween each shipment; she didn't want them to start thinking that the supply was unlimited, and she had a long talk with Zed on just that subject. He was disappointed in one way, and re­lieved in another. He wouldn't have been unhappy to be asked to find more ex-slaves to recruit, but on the other hand, he didn't want his workforce growing past the point where he could handle everything himself.

In the end, Shana and the latest load of crude iron ingots re­turned overland to the New Citadel by pack- mule, arriving just about sunset.

Just in time for Caellach Gwain to run straight into them.

He stared; he began to shake with anger. In a matter of mo­ments, he was practically beside himself with rage.

'What are you doing, girl?' he screamed at the top of his lungs, drawing everyone within hearing distance to the mouth of the cavern where the unloading was taking place.

'I should think that was perfectly obvious,' she retorted. After the long walk—for she was not going to ride when she had two perfectly good legs, and her weight-equivalent in iron bars could be loaded on a mule in her place—she was hot and tired, and not in the mood for the temper-tantrums of irascible old men.

'You idiot!' he shrieked. 'Bringing that—filthy stuff here? Bringing it inside the caves? You're mad! You're crazed! How is anybody supposed to work magic with that foul garbage practically on top of us?'

There were some grumbles and mutterings from the older wizards in the crowd that had gathered around them, but this time Shana stood her ground. It was about time that the recalci­trant wizards adapted to the situation, instead of expecting someone to work around their reluctance to change.

'You'll work magic around it the same way we youngsters do,' she said firmly, hands on hips, glaring at him. 'I should think you'd be grateful to me! The more iron there is around here, the safer you are! Haven't you at least figured that out by now?'

Usually she made some pretense of politeness to the old man, but she was in no mood for him at the moment, and her at­titude sent him into an incoherent frenzy.

That was just about the last straw.

'Shut up, you stupid old man!' she screamed—and since her soprano was considerably more piercing than his hoarse howls, even he heard her, and stared at her, mouth agape.

'Ever since we arrived here, all you've done is complain!' she shouted, her face flushed. 'We've fed you, clothed you, seen to it that you got your creature comforts, and you have done nothing, nothing to help the rest of us! You're a parasite, Caellach Gwain, you're as useless as a second nose and you aren't even half as entertaining! Now shut up and learn to work magic around iron like everyone else, or—or—'

'Or what?' Gwain sneered. 'You'll turn me over to the El-venlords? That's just what you would do, isn't it? Elvenbane?'

As hot as she had been the moment before, now she was cold. 'No,' she said flatly. 'But only you would think that I could. No. If you won't learn to adapt to our new life here,

Caellach Gwain, I will see to it that no one else will cosset you from this moment on. You will find your own food or starve, clean your own clothing or go dirty, cut your own firewood or freeze. Sooner or later, you'll figure out how to live like a re­sponsible adult, and high time, too.'

And with that, she turned on her heel and stalked off, push­ing her way through the surrounding crowd of mingled young and old wizards.

Someone grabbed her elbow; she started to pull away blindly, when she realized it was Lorryn. 'Don't run off,' he muttered. 'Not now. This isn't over yet.' He turned her back to face the crowd.

'I've heard the mutters and the complaints,' he said loudly. 'I've heard them from the moment that I arrived here. I couldn't help but notice that most of them came from the same set of mouths—so let's just address this situation once and for all. I'm calling a convocation of all Wizards.'

'Here?' someone gasped. 'Now?'

'Here and now,' Lorryn agreed. 'I give you all a quarter-candle to get everyone assembled; whoever isn't here by then I'll assume has no interest in the way things are run in the New Citadel, and doesn't feel the need to have his voice heard.'

About half of those present shot or lumbered off in every di­rection to gather friends and enemies from every part of the Citadel. Shana looked askance at Lorryn.

'Is this a good idea?' she asked doubtfully.

'It had to happen sometime soon,' Lorryn replied. 'Better that it comes as a surprise to both sides; Caellach and his cronies won't have a chance to prepare themselves.'

'And we're prepared?' she replied, staring at him incredu­lously.

'More than they are—and what's the besetting sin of every one of the Whiners?' he asked, and answered himself tri­umphantly. 'Laziness! That's why I only gave them a quarter-candle. How many will think it's too much trouble to drag themselves away from whatever they'd planned or were in the middle of?'

'Maybe enough to make a real difference,' she said slowly—

for already the young wizards were coming up to the clearing at the entrance, brought in by the youngsters who had scattered like quail to bring the message to everyone within reach of a pair of fleet feet.

With the help of a couple of their friends, Lorryn prepared the area. This was also the spot where firewood was chopped and stored, and the young wizards got to work, rolling in some logs for the less-than-healthy to sit on down in front, and set­ting up sawn sections of trunk for himself, Shana, and presum­ably Caellach to stand on so everyone could see them. Caellach, of course, merely stood about and observed them sourly. More and more people were arriving with every passing moment, and by the time the allotted span was gone, the only Wizards not present were a scant handful of the oldest or lazi­est. The biggest surprise was the number of pure humans who had come as well; virtually every full human in the Citadel.

With a great deal of overacted infirmity, Caellach bullied a couple of human youngsters into helping him up onto one trunk-section, as Shana and Lorryn took the other two.

'Now, settle down!' Lorryn shouted, very loudly, so that those who were chattering and milling about obediently stopped talking aloud and turned their attention to where the three of them stood. 'All right, then. I am going to moderate this convocation since I'm the one who called it.'

'But you're Shana's lover!' Caellach sputtered, red-faced.

Shana was going to protest, but Lorryn beat her to it. The fu­rious look that Lorryn turned on him sent him from red to white, and he even shrank back a little. No one had ever seen Lorryn angry before—and he looked positively murderous.

'I am not,' he replied into the silence, 'Lashana's lover. We are friends, and she has been relying upon my experience on my father's estate to help her handle you unruly lot. Even if that were true, it would have nothing to do with this situation and it would be none of your business so long as her foster mother ap­proves. I am offended, Caellach Gwain. I do suggest that you confine your words to the issues at hand, or I will be tempted to challenge you.'

Challenge him? What on earth does he mean by that? Shana

thought, bewildered. Caellach Gwain evidently knew, though, for he turned even whiter, and stammered an apology.