The chamber slowly filled with a murmur of conversation as more and more Mages arrived. Like Irunan, they were dressed in robes, some blue, as was his, but of many other colors as well. Most of the entering Magefolk seemed to be of indeterminate ages, just as were the Elves, but unlike the Elven band, some of the Wizards were silver haired and bowed under the weight of years, having spent their vigor in the casting of spells. As with all of their kind, however, these "old ones" could recover their vitality by resting in a special way; many had done so before by sailing to Rwn, where they crossed in-between to Vadaria, for there in their home realm the return to youth came much faster than anywhere else within the Planes.
Among the last to enter the council hall were Gelon and a female Mage. Gelon looked 'round the chamber to find Irunan and, seeing him, took an adjacent seat. The female on the other hand stepped to the apex of the table and sat.
She was tall and dressed in a yellow robe. Her hair was light brown and fell nearly to her hips, her eyes light brown as well. In this cycle of casting, she had spent some of her youth, though she was not yet at the point where she needed to ‹rest›.
After taking in the Elves with her piercing gaze- peering long and hard at Arin-she glanced 'round the room, noting who was present and absent, and waited some moments more as a few latecomers hurried in. Soon all the chairs were filled, and Mages stood in the archways as well.
Finally she took up the gavel and rapped it on the block a time or two. A hush settled over the congress.
"Irunan, would you advise the Council as to why you called this meeting."
Irunan moved to the empty chair at the foot of the arc, and stood behind it, grasping high on the sides of its red velvet back. "Sage, this Dylvana"-he turned and gestured toward Arin-"Dara Arin of Darda Erynian, Blackwood, the Great Greenhall, has had a vision of the Dragonstone, of the Green Stone of Xian."
An uproar filled the chamber as Wizards turned to one another, or leaped to their feet or leaned forward and peered at Arin in shocked disbelief.
Impossible.
This cannot be.
The Green Stone?
How do you know?
The babble continued even though the Sage pounded her gavel for order.
Irunan stepped to Arin's side. "My Lady." He held out a hand and Arin took it, and the Mage led the diminutive, four-foot-eight Dylvana to the focal chair. When she was seated, finally the congress began to settle. And the hammering of the gavel at last caused a hush to fall.
"Lady Arin, I am Arilla, Sorceress"-she spread her hands wide, palms upturned-"and Sage of this Council." As Arin canted her head in acknowledgment, Arilla continued: "I understand that you and your companions have traveled far to bring us word of your vision, and as you can see by our outburst, a vision of the Green Stone is cause for much concern."
Again Arin canted her head in acknowledgment.
"And now if you would, Lady Arin, tell us of your Seeing." Arilla took up her gavel and rapped it hard on the block, and her hawklike gaze swept about the room. "And I would have complete silence until her story is done."
Arilla faced Arin once again and lay down the gavel. "If you would begin, my Lady, and please, leave nothing out."
Arin took a deep breath and her soft words fell into the silence of the chamber as the Dylvana recounted her vision in all its bloody detail.
"Without a doubt, it is the Dragonstone," said Arilla in the stunned silence that followed.
"But how can that be?" protested a red-robed Mage. "The Dragonstone defies all scrying. Even the Dragons themselves cannot sense it."
"Or so they said, Belgon," replied Arilla. "Or so they said."
"Well, we cannot find it," declared another Mage, an oldster dressed in blue. He turned to a fellow Wizard. "And we looked long and hard."
As the other Mage nodded in agreement, Arilla murmured, "True."
Arin cleared her throat. "If the pale green stone I saw in my vision is indeed this unscryable Dragonstone, then how could I have seen it at all?"
Wizards looked at one another. Some shook their heads. Others shrugged. But Belgon stroked his chin in deep thought then looked up and said, "It must be the 'wild magic.' "
Arin turned to the red-robed, black-haired Wizard.
" 'Wild magic'? That's the term Dalavar Wolfmage used. What does it mean?"
Belgon shook his head. "It means, Lady Arin, that you exercise an unknown power in a way we do not understand, for it requires no manipulation of the astral ‹fire› or any of the five elements. It seems to be a power of neither earth nor water nor air nor fire nor aethyr. Instead it is something else-something 'wild' and unpredictable. Whence it comes, who knows? Who understands? Certainly not we."
Again a silence fell upon the Council. At last Arilla said, "As you can see, Lady Arin, we are stunned by your vision, not because we know what it means, but instead because you had a vision at all, for the Green Stone of Xian defies scrying of any sort… except perhaps that of the 'wild magic.' "
A white-haired female Mage dressed in a white robe leaned forward in her chair and held up a finger. Arilla glanced her way. "Yes, Lysanne."
"Sage, we have not heard all of Lady Arin's vision."
"I know," replied Arilla.
"But I've told ye all," protested Arin.
Lysanne held out a calming hand. "Yes, you have said all you remember, Lady Arin, but you spoke of vague images you cannot recall."
Arin turned up her hands in a wordless response.
"What Lysanne means," said Arilla, "is that perhaps she can help you summon those lost images to mind. If so, then they may give us some clue as to where the Green Stone now lies and what to do about it."
Silverleaf stood and stepped to the side of Arin's chair. Arilla raised her gaze to him.
"I am Alor Vanidar, past Coron of Darda Galion, the Eldwood, the Land of the Larks." Soft exclamations murmured 'round the chamber. Raising his voice slightly, Silverleaf said, "I"-he turned and gazed at Rissa and the other Elves, and then looked down to Arin-"that is, we would hear more of this Dragonstone, more of this Green Stone of Xian. Too, we would hear if there is a way to avert its terrible doom."
Arilla nodded. "Yes, we owe you that much." Now her gaze swept about the chamber. "If there are no objections, I will adjourn the Council for the time being to tell these guests the history of the Dragonstone, inasmuch as we know it. Too, I propose that Lysanne try to recover the lost part of Lady Arin's vision. But although we adjourn for now, be ready to reassemble on short notice."
Again her gaze swept 'round the chamber, and hearing no protest, she looked at Lysanne. "Stay, Lysanne." Then she gestured to Arin and Vanidar and their comrades. "All of you stay as well."
But before she could bang her gavel down, there came a commotion at the doorway, and pressing through the gathered Mages came an armed and armored figure. Small she was, compared to the Mages, five feet two at most. She was garbed in brown leather-vest and breeks and boots-and hammered bronze plates like bronze scales were sewn on the vest; underneath she wore a pale cream silk jerkin. Her skin was the color of saffron, and a brown leather headband incised with red glyphs held her short-cropped raven-black hair back and away from her tilted eyes and her high-cheekboned face. And at her waist were sheathed two slightly curved swords: one barely longer than a long-knife, the other with a full-length blade.
She marched 'round the table, Mages turning to see. Ignoring the murmurs and the stares, she stepped into the open space before Arin and faced the Dylvana, her eyes of onyx staring into the hazel of Arin's, and in a ringing voice declared, "Watakushi wa torn desu!"
Now she grasped the hilts of her swords and, steel whispering, drew them both in a flash and held them on high, calling out, "Kore wa watakushi no kiba desu!"