battles. The farms could feed us so much better, if there was more water, if it was warmer. Of the crops'—he held up all eight of his digits—'this many do not survive.» He folded down five fingers.
«You're losing over sixty percent of your yield because you like to live high,» Keff said. «Your superfluous uses of power, to show off, to play, to kill, is irresponsible. You're killing your world. One day your farms won't be able to sustain themselves. People will die of starvation. No matter what you think of their mental capacity, you couldn't want that because then you'd have no food and no one to do the menial labor you require.»
Chaumel looked from Keff's grim face to the spinning globe of Ozran, and sat down heavily in the crash couch.
«We are doing that,» he said, raising his long hands in surrender. «Everything he says, he knows. But if I lay down my items of power to help, my surrender will not stop all the others, nor will appealing to wisdom. We mages distrust each other too much.»
«Then we need to negotiate a mass cease-fire,» Carialle said.
«Not without a ready alternative,» Chaumel returned promptly. «Our system is steeped in treachery and the counting of coup.»
«I found references to that, too,» Keff said, consulting a page of the first manual. «Somebody made a bad translation for your forefathers of instructions given to officers seeking promotion. It says 'consideration for continued higher promotion will be given to those individuals who complete the most successful projects in the most efficient manner.' It goes on to say that those projects should benefit the whole community, but I guess that part got lost over time. There's a similar clause in our ship's manual, just in updated language.»
Chaumel groaned.
«Then all this time we have been making an enormous mistake.» He appealed to Keff and the image of Carialle. «I didn't know that we were acting on bad information. All my life I thought I was following the strictures of the First Ones. I sought to be worthy of my ancestors. I am ashamed.»
Keff realized that Chaumel was genuinely horrified. By his own lights, the silver mage was an honorable man.
«Well,» Keff said, slowly, «you can start to put things right by helping us.»
Chaumel chopped a hand across.
«Your ship is free. What else do you want me to do?»
«Seek out the Core of Ozran and find out what it was really meant to do, what its real capacity is,» Carialle said at once. «Its possible, although I think unlikely, that you can retain some of your current lifestyle, but if you are serious about wanting to rescue your planet and future generations—»
«Oh, I am,» Chaumel said. «I will give no more trouble.»
«Then its time to redirect the power to its original purpose, as conceived by the Ancient Ones: weather control.»
«But what shall we do about the other mages?» Plennafrey asked.
«If we can't convince 'em,» Carialle said, «I think I can figure out how to disable them, based on what our long-gone chronicler said about answerback frequencies. With a little experimentation, I can block specific signals, no matter how tight a wave band they're broadcast on. The others will learn to live on limited power, or none at all. It's their choice.»
«We'd employ that option,» Keff said quickly when he saw Chaumel's reaction, «only if there is no other way to persuade them to cooperate.»
«And that is where I come in,» Chaumel said, smiling for the first time. «I am held in some esteem on Ozran. I will use my influence to negotiate, as you say, a widespread mutual surrender. With the help of the magical pictures you will show us'—he bowed to Carialle's image—'we will persuade the others to see the wisdom in returning to the ways of the Ancient Ones. We must not fail. The size of that gourd . . .» he said, shaking his head in gently mocking disbelief.
«I still think you're wrong to leave Brannel behind,» Keff argued, as Plenna lofted him over the broad plains toward Chaumel's stronghold.
«It is better that only we three, with the aid of Carialle and her illusion-casting, seek to convince the mages,» the silver magiman said imperturbably. He sat upright in his chariot, hands folded over his belly.
«But why not Brannel? I'm not a native. I can't explain things in a way your people will understand.»
Chaumel shook his head, and pitched his voice to carry over the wind. «My fellows will have enough difficulty to believe in a woman who lives inside a wall. They will not countenance a smart four-finger. Come, we must discuss strategy! Tell me again what it said about promotion in the documents. I must memorize that.»
The chariots flew too far away even to be seen on the magic pictures. Brannel, left alone in the main cabin, felt awkward at being left out but dared not, in the face of Chaumel's opposition, protest. He remained behind, haunting the ship like a lonely spirit.
The flat magiwoman appeared on the wall beside him, and paced beside him as he walked up and back.
«I don't know when they'll be coming back,» Carialle said very gently, surprising him out of his thoughts. «You should go now. Keff will come and get you when he returns.»
«But, Magess,» Brannel began, then halted from voicing the argument that sprang to his tongue. After all, this time she was not driving him away with painful sounds, but he was unhappy at being dismissed whenever the overlords had no need of him. After all the talk of equality and the promise of apprenticeship following his great risk-taking in Magess Plennafrey's stronghold, he, the simple worker, was once more ignored and forgotten. He sighed.
«Now, Brannel.» The picture of the woman smiled. «You'll be missed in the cavern if you don't go. True?»
«True.»
«Then come back when you've finished your work for the day. You can keep me company while I'm running the rest of the tapes.» The voice was coaxing. «You'll see them before Magess Plenna and Chaumel. How about that as an apology for not sending you out with the others?»
Brannel brightened slightly. It would be hard to return to daily life after his brush with greatness. But he nodded, head held high. He had much to think about.
«Oh, and Brannel,» Carialle said. The flat magess was kind. She gestured toward the food door which opened. A plate lay there. «The bottom layer is soft bread. You can roll the rest up in it. We call it a 'sandwich.'»
He walked down the ship's ramp with the «sandwich» of magefood cradled protectively between his hands. The savory smell made his mouth water, even though it hadn't been long since he had eaten his most delicious lunch. How he would explain his day's absence to Alteis Brannel didn't yet know, but at least he would do it on a full belly. Associating with mages was most assuredly a mixed blessing.
«Why not relax?» Chaumel said, leaning back at his ease in a deeply carved armchair that bobbed gently up and down in the air. «He will come or he will not. I shall ask the next prospect and we'll collect High Mage Nokias later. Sit down! Relax! I will pour us some wine. I have a very good vintage from the South.»
Keff stopped his pacing up and back in the great room of Chaumel's stronghold. Chaumel had decided on the first mage to whom he would appeal, and sent a spy-eye with the discreet invitation. Evening had fallen while the three of them waited to see if Nokias would accept. The holographic projection table from the main cabin was set up in the middle of the room. He went over to touch it, making sure it was all right. Plennafrey watched him. The young magiwoman sat in an upright chair in her favorite place by the curtains, hands folded in her lap.
«It's important to get this right,» Keff said.
«I know it,» Chaumel said. «I am cognizant of the risks. I may enjoy my life as it is, but I love my world, and I want it to continue after I'm gone. You may find it difficult to convince my fellows of that. I achieve nothing by worrying about what they will say before I have even asked the question. The evidence speaks for itself.»
«But what if they don't believe it?»
