It was Councilman Sadler. He looked grim as he strode resolutely across the bridge, head bent, watching the ground before him as if in a daze.
Magda stepped out and gently caught him by the arm. “Councilman Sadler, good afternoon.”
His arm a captive in her grip, he looked up.
“Magda.” He blinked at being so suddenly jarred from his thoughts. “Good afternoon.”
As he started away, Magda held on to his arm, pulling him to a stop again and keeping him from leaving.
“What’s wrong?” she asked.
He scowled unhappily. “Am I that obvious?”
“No, not at all. Just a feeling I had when I saw you. Is there anything I can do for you?”
He peered at her a moment, his clear eyes behind drooping lids finally looked away from her before he spoke.
“The council has made some decisions,” he said. “You caught me thinking over the matter.”
“And you don’t like what was decided?”
“I can’t say that I’m entirely in agreement with their determinations.”
It was uncharacteristic for him to voice such personal feelings about matters decided by the council. He was usually quite stoic. With thoughts of all the trouble at the Keep still in her head, she decided not to let the matter go.
“May I ask what they have decided that troubles you?”
He pressed his lips tight for a moment, thinking it over, but then he finally relented.
“People will know soon enough. Won’t be a secret for long.”
“Have they named a First Wizard?” She guessed. “Is that it?”
He straightened and studied her face before finally letting out a sigh. He gazed off at the city far down in the valley.
“Yes. And more.”
Puzzled, Magda was not about to let the matter go without more details. “I don’t know what you mean. What more?”
He came out of his private thoughts and glanced around to see if anyone was close, then took her arm and led her over to the stone wall edging the bridge. Women carrying bundles hurried past on their way back from markets in Aydindril. Men walked before carts pulled by mules or rode in wagons piled high with supplies of every sort, from firewood to barrels of salted fish.
A double column of soldiers coming from the Keep rode past on big black horses. Their breastplates reflected the amber glow of the late-day light. Chain mail and armor jangled as the horses trotted past. People scurried out of their way. All the equally big men carried lances at a perfect upright angle. These heavily armed men, called the Black Lancers, were some of the most lethal soldiers in the Home Guard. Besides wearing black tunics beneath their armor and chain mail, they also proclaimed their identity with long black pennants as well as their beautiful black horses.
Sadler watched the Black Lancers gallop away once they reached the far side of the bridge. He waited until all the nearby people continued on their way again, waited until the two of them stood apart from everyone crossing the bridge.
“You’re a good woman, Magda. Always fair and always well reasoned. So, I’ll tell you before you hear it elsewhere tomorrow.”
Magda tilted her head toward him so as not to miss his quiet words. “What is it, Councilman Sadler.”
“Lothain has been named First Wizard.”
Magda’s mouth hung open. It was a moment before she finally found her voice.
“Lothain? Head Prosecutor Lothain? That Lothain? He has been named First Wizard? Are you serious?”
“Quite serious.” Sadler’s expression was grim. “His installation will be held soon—within a matter of a few days, I would expect, although I’ve not been informed of exactly when. With pressing matters of the war, the council wants to forgo the usual large, public event such as when Baraccus was named. They want it to be somewhat smaller than is customary in order to hurry arrangements along so he can get on with the business of First Wizard.”
Magda was too stunned to know what to say.
“That’s not all,” Sadler added. He gestured down the mountain. “I’m moving down to my cottage in the woods. No need for me to live at the Keep any longer.”
“But the council . . .”
His eyes, still as sharp as ever, flashed her way. “I won’t be sitting on the council.”
Magda blinked. “What do you mean?”
He looked suddenly uncomfortable, even embarrassed. “I have been dismissed.”
Magda had to run the word through her mind again to be sure she had heard it correctly. “Dismissed? You can’t be dismissed. Unless of course you have been convicted of—”
“No, no, nothing like that,” he said as he waved with a gesture to indicate that she had gotten the wrong idea.
“Then what do you mean you’ve been dismissed? How can you be dismissed? By whom?”
“Lothain.”
Magda stared a moment before again having to remind herself to close her mouth.
“I don’t understand.”
He grimaced a little as he looked away from her. “Lothain suggested, and the rest of the council agreed, that changes needed to be made so that decisions in such difficult times could be more easily reached. With six members on the council, we were often deadlocked.”
“But it’s supposed to be that way so that a majority can’t run roughshod and dictate. Six members is meant to be more deliberative, meant to promote a measured pace in the council working toward the truth. It prevents rash decisions.”
He gestured with a flick of his hand, as if he agreed with her, but could do nothing about it.
“It was thought that in wartime, with problems such as we now face, what the council needs most is the ability to reach swift rulings. Five members gives them that ability. Three members in agreement is all it now takes to pass a proposal.”
Magda didn’t know what to say. She had known Sadler for a long time. She had brought matters before him for several years. He hadn’t always agreed with her, but unlike some of the others he had always listened with an open mind.
She reached out and laid a hand on his forearm. “I’m so sorry. Are you going to be all right?”
He again waved off her concern. “Don’t worry for me. I’ll be fine. I always wanted to spend more time in my quiet little cottage in the woods. Since my wife passed . . . well, I guess that I could use some time to reflect. Worrying about matters of war are probably too harsh a burden for me anymore. . . . At least, that was what the others said.”
A slight breath of breeze pulled some of her short hair across her face. Magda pushed it back. “Can I come see you sometime?”
He grinned and pinched her cheek, something he had never done before. It was an extraordinary gesture that stunned her.
“I’d like that, Magda. I’d like that.”
He seemed so much less reserved than, in her experience, he had always been. His weathered, wrinkled face looked tired. She thought it must be that he had believed he had to present a measured and resolute façade appropriate to being a councilman. Now that mask had faded away to reveal the man beneath it.
As he started away, she watched him turning his back on the Keep, on a life’s work. He looked hunched and older to her than he ever had before. Magda suddenly thought of something and called out to him.
Chapter 57
Magda took a step away from the stone wall at the side of the bridge.
“Councilman Sadler.”
He stopped and turned. “It’s just Sol, now. I am no longer a councilman. I am just Sol.”
Magda smiled a sad smile. “I’m afraid that I could never in my life bring myself to call you anything other than Councilman Sadler.”