‘For me the choice is simple,’ said the city guard commander, standing. ‘I am the appointed defender of this city, part of which is the college. I have forty full-time officers and experienced soldiers and I have perhaps a hundred volunteer constables. We will not leave. We will stand and fight side by side with our mages to defend our city.’
‘Thank you, Commander Vale,’ said Pheone, smiling. A smattering of applause ran around the gathered mages.
The Mayor rose to his feet. He was a tall man, his gaze imposing and his shining bald pate instantly recognisable.
‘Pheone, you speak openly and, I assume, honestly. As have all who have spoken thus far. Yet I do not know how I should react. With gratitude that you have forewarned us and given us a chance to save ourselves? With anger that you might think we would consider deserting a college that has sustained us so long? Or with cynicism because you have left us with no real choice but to bear arms in defence of our city - and that, because living with a magic college in our midst invites trouble?’
Pheone’s jaw dropped. There was a rumbling of voices from the table and the assembled mages. She waved them to quiet. ‘Should you not just be glad that we have given you maximum warning and genuine choice? We have been ready to speak to you since this morning. I just don’t want to see innocents die. Would you have preferred your first knowledge of Xetesk’s arrival to have been as soldiers marched past your house?’
The Mayor raised his hands. ‘Pheone, please, don’t overreact. I am merely expressing the range of emotion that the people will express. The history of Julatsa is well-known to all here. And I concede that much of what we have here is credit to the college.’
‘Good of you to say so,’ muttered Lempaar, the old elven elder.
‘Indeed,’ said the Mayor, smiling. ‘The glory and the destruction. It is the way of cities. Korina grew because of its docks, those required to service them and those using them for profit. But wheels turn full circle. Surely the pattern of trade is such that the docks now serve the people, should they ever be rebuilt. And perhaps it is so with the college of Julatsa. The world moves on. And my city is saying to me, how long can we support this college? This elite gathering that in the last decade has brought us so little but cost us so much?’
Pheone could not quite believe what she was hearing. The Mayor had begun with a confused message. Now his opinion was becoming unfortunately clear.
‘Mister Mayor, we don’t have the time to debate theories and attitudes. We need to know what it is the people of Julatsa intend and what you will recommend. We have to make plans quickly.’
The Mayor’s expression hardened. ‘Then I will not delay you. Clearly the complex feelings of the city are of no real concern to you.’
‘That is not—’
‘I understand,’ he said. ‘The college comes above all considerations. ’
‘I am talking reality, not theory. Xetesk is coming.’
But the Mayor was enjoying himself. He looked to his council who, Commander Vale excepted, nodded their support.
‘This city is so much more than its college. This city is its people. And those people are tired of being targets in conflict, tired of suffering for the good of the college, and tired of being hated for things beyond their control.
‘All across our country, people are starting to put their lives back together. After the magic-inspired storms we all suffered, crops are growing again. In the baronial lands, towns and villages are being rebuilt, farms are working. Perhaps you have been disconnected from life outside of the college lands but I have not. No one wants this war. In fact there is no war outside the mage lands, barring what we might call normal baronial disputes. Even Arlen, practically destroyed by Xeteskian forces, has been ceded back to its few survivors.
‘Why should we Julatsans suffer one more day of conflict? Why should innocent people in any college city do so? I understand who is coming here. I understand what they want. I also understand that I cannot stop them. But I will not stand by while they destroy what little we have left. Our esteemed city guard’s commander is out on a limb, siding with you.’ He didn’t look across as he spoke, focusing solely on Pheone. ‘I will not have fighting in the streets of this city. If he wants to stand with you, he can do it on your walls. If Xetesk has come to tear down the college, I will not ask my people to stand in its way.’
Pheone nodded. ‘Am I to understand,’ she said into the void, ‘that you are going to chaperone an invasion force to its target? Is that right?’
The Mayor shrugged. ‘I won’t stand in its way. Indeed, I will be trying to organise matters such that it makes its way through my city peaceably. There will be no battle on these streets, in the parks or squares. The message I will send to the people of Julatsa is simple. They will have nothing to fear from the Xeteskians. If they wish to leave for the time being, they can. If they wish to fight with you, they must join you here.’
‘Gutless coward,’ snarled Geren.
‘Geren, stop,’ snapped Pheone. ‘Insults get us nowhere.’
‘You had better hope Xetesk prevails, hadn’t you?’ Geren said ignoring her.
‘Are you threatening me, boy?’
‘I am theorising,’ said Geren nastily. ‘About what might happen to the balance of power in this city if my college repels the invasion. And repel it, we will.’
‘I hope you do,’ said the Mayor, though his voice was cold. ‘I hope still to count you as friends. But I must look after my people. They are not to be sacrificed on the altar of magic.’
‘Friends?’ said Geren. ‘Friends stand together. You are no friend of this college.’
‘I do not like your tone,’ said the Mayor.
‘You aren’t supposed to.’
Pheone just watched and listened as the clamour grew, unwilling and unable to stop it. Commander Vale stood and walked out, brushing aside the council members who sought to stop him. He shook hands with her and the elders before striding purposefully from the lecture theatre.
But what could he really do? The Mayor was popular and his views shared widely. If he had his way, ordinary Julatsans would not lift a finger to help them and her thoughts of the enemy being hounded on every street corner went up in smoke. Dammit but this man would practically escort Dystran to the gates of the college. Pheone bit back the tears of anger and frustration but felt, as a physical pain, another nail being hammered into the coffin of Julatsan magic.
Chapter 33
Night was falling over the mage lands north of Xetesk. Auum had found the run a release after the cramped passageways of Xetesk’s catacombs, and they had made good progress. He and Rebraal had organised their forces into scouts, flank and rear defence, and hunter-gatherer parties, while the mages were defended by Al-Arynaar swordsmen supported by TaiGethen.
ClawBound did as they always did. They took no orders but knew instinctively where to be, what to watch and when to report. The loss of two of the dozen pairs, along with three TaiGethen in the earlier attack, had hurt them deeply; and the ClawBound calls that echoed across the miles of charmless damaged countryside were laced with mourning. The information they carried, though, was important and welcome. The Xeteskian forces had stopped and set up camp. Fires were lit, tents were pitched and horses picketed. This was not a brief halt.