OoOoO

A firm, insistent rapping brought Arzai around to full waking. There was someone knocking on the tower door. Incredulous that someone would disturb the Magicol at this early hour, Arzai slid out of bed and reached for her favorite black, grey and white night-robe. Woven from the spun hair of khyaru deer, it shimmered like a second silver skin in the pre-dawn light. The knocking came again, and Arzai hurried out of her room, down the spiraling metal staircase and through the main tower to answer it. Her long dark hair fluttered behind her legs like a cloak, but there was no time to bind it. Fully intending to make whoever was calling account for their boldness, Arzai drew herself up to her full height and narrowed her red eyes imperiously before drawing back the bolt and throwing the door open.

It threw Arzai somewhat off her burgeoning diatribe to find the captain of the Knights of Amenthis on the threshold, accompanied by four of his men. Captain Sabin had himself been sent to Amenthere from Hashodi to replace the previous captain over a decade ago. His brilliant and ingenious mind was a credit to the castle guard, and Arzai liked the northerner well enough. This morning though his customarily expressive face seemed schooled into impassivity. Sabin eyed Arzai as though they were strangers.

"Red Obad Arzai, you and the rest of the Magicol are summoned before the king."

Somewhat taken aback by the abruptness of such a summons, Arzai lifted her chin in acknowledgement. "Very well, I will rouse Master Tomur and-"

"Master Tomur has already been before the king, as has Blue Obad Margalee. You and the rest will come now."

Arzai hadn't heard either Margalee or Tomur leave. Frowning, she nodded. "We will be there as soon as we may, once we are arisen and made presentable."

"No," Captain Sabin said coolly. "You will come now."

"What, this very instant?"

"Now."

Something struck Arzai as being very, very amiss. With a curt nod, she stepped back from the knights.

"I'll go and fetch the others."

Sabin stepped forward into the tower, ignoring the artistry of his surroundings. It was not lost on Arzai that he and the other knights all had their hands resting on the pommels of their swords.

"We will be waiting here to escort you when you return," he said.

As Arzai hurried back up to the stairs to the dormitories she tried not to let her thoughts get ahead of her. Something was wrong, something was very wrong indeed. Whatever it was, Margalee and Master Tomur were somehow involved. Had Margalee met with harm? The thought made Arzai's heart clench with silent fear. She said nothing of it though when she called Bvhoros, Davenir and the Ovates from their rooms. Still, the emptiness of Margalee's room when she passed by did nothing to allay her concerns. What had last night wrought?

OoOoO

The trip from the Tower of the Elements to the royal apartments was a short one, but it felt far longer, still in their night clothes as they were and flanked on all sides by the Knights of Amenthis. Arzai kept her shoulders thrown back though, refusing to show even a glimmer of nervousness. The Ovates whispered furtively amongst themselves as they walked through the castle halls. Arzai could practically feel the tension vibrating through the air around Davenir. Only Bvhoros seemed similarly inclined as Arzai to keep his peace. It was strange to see all of the Green Obad's hair out in the open; he had managed to twist it into a knot on top of his head as they left, but there had been no time for his elaborate cloth wraps. It made Arzai feel a little better for some reason. If she had to go before the king with her hair down, then at least she would have company in her undress.

Arzai had never been in the royal apartments before, despite her many years spent in Castle Armathain. There was little opportunity to appreciate the splendor of the vaulted ceilings and paneled walls. Captain Sabin led them quickly from the hall into a spacious sitting room. King Mahir was there, surrounded by a cadre of knights and already dressed for the court. What struck Arzai immediately however was the king's face. Never before had she ever seen, nor expected to see Mahir Amenthis like this.

There was a thick line of dried blood dividing the king's lower lip where it had been split. A purplish bruise mottled his chin above his neatly trimmed beard. It looked like he'd been in a fight. The thought of someone having laid hands on King Mahir in such a way defied all belief.

Who could have done such a thing? Arzai wondered, shocked.

"Good morning," said Mahir. He sounded calm enough. His dark brown eyes swept over the Obads like a hawk appraising a rabbit though. The king was only a few years older than Arzai, but even she found it hard not to quail under such a gaze, still in her night clothes and unaware of their purpose here. The situation however was beginning to take on sinister tones, now that she could see the king's abused face for herself.

"Good morning, Your Grace." The Magicol returned promptly, all sinking to one knee. They waited in silence for the king to speak again.

For the longest time however, he did not. Mahir stood, abandoning his seat on the lounge chair to stand in front of the six sorcerers. He paced the length of the room past them, then turned and paced back. The silence was thick and oppressive. Arzai could feel the presences Captain Sabin and the other Knights of Amenthis behind them. It was not lost on her that they were standing nearly one-to-one at the Magicol's back. A nasty thought occurred to her then. If the knights were to draw their swords, their heads would be on the floor before any of them could so much as cast a cantrip. Arzai didn't know why, but she suddenly sensed danger for all of them. Her jaw tightened.

Finally, Mahir broke the quiet. He did not however indicate for them to rise, but left them kneeling on the plush rug before him.

"Last night, I was subject to an assassination attempt." Ignoring the shocked looks that pronouncement earned, he continued. "A hired murderer gained access to my apartments and sought to put a knife in my heart while I slept. My son, your prince, was in the room and very much in harm's way as well. It is only thanks to chance and the man's own cowardice that we escaped unharmed."

Ijireen looked about to say something. Thankfully Roran silenced his fellow Ovate before Arzai was forced to turn her attention from the king to do it. An awful feeling was creeping up the back of her spine. Where were Master Tomur and Margalee? The cool morning breeze through the open window felt somehow sinister in its sweetness.

"Captain Sabin, will you kindly explain how the assassin got inside the castle after hours?"

Mahir returned to his seat on the couch, making way for his captain to circle the Magicol. Sabin's face was graver than a tombstone effigy.

"The intruder came in by way of the Skybridge, which was as per orders, closed for the night. He had help from the castle side, however. Perhaps one of you could tell us from whom?"

A loadstone of horror fell into Arzai's belly and lodged there. If the bridge had been closed, then it would have taken an incredible feat to get anyone across that gaping chasm between the two sides; a feat of magic. She could think of several spells right off the top of her head that, when adapted from the repertoire of a Blue Obad, would serve the purpose nicely.

Finally an expression must have cracked through her mask of schooled stoicism. Mahir nodded to Sabin, who stepped close enough to the kneeling Magicol to tower over them.

"The assassin fled after failing to kill His Majesty. We chased him to the Skybridge, where he made his escape in the same manner that he first entered the castle. His accomplice however did not manage to evade capture. Blue Obad Margalee was arrested in mid-trance on the bridge."

"No!" Bvhoros sounded appalled. "Margalee would nev-"

"Are you implying that Captain Sabin is a liar, as well as the Knights of Amenthis who made the arrest, Green Obad Bvhoros?" Mahir's voice had suddenly become deadly. He dismissed any further protests with a wave. "Your claims of disbelief are unneeded. Master Tomur was summoned immediately after Margalee's capture. Although she denied it, he confessed not only knowledge of her actions, but full responsibility. According to the High Obad, he hired the assassin before delegating the role of accomplice to his student. The question is, is the rest of the Magicol similarly under Tomur's traitorous sway?"

Arzai looked to Bvhoros. The older Obad seemed at a loss for words. Davenir looked down at the floor. Indeed, what could they say? Arzai herself was completely stunned. Never in a thousand years would she ever have suspected such subterfuge, such treachery from her oldest friend and from the man who had been like a father to her for years. To plot the murder of the ruling Amenthis monarch denied all understanding. From her very first day in the tower, Arzai had learned first from Lirien and then from Tomur that the Magicol and the throne were partners indivisible. For the Obads to turn on the crown was as unforgivable as if a sister were to betray her own brother. The line of Amenthis and the Magicol went together, they just did. What Margalee and Master Tomur had done trod upon every sense of loyalty and patriotism that Arzai knew. It felt like an attack on her very identity. Something inside her wilted at even the thought of it.

"Green Obad Bvhoros, what say you?"

Captain Sabin's question brought Arzai snapping back to attention. She watched out of the corner of her eye as Bvhoros cleared his throat. He appeared to be having trouble keeping himself composed.

"Where are...Master Tomur and Margalee?"

Whatever answer Sabin and the king had been expecting, this didn't seem to do anything to endear the Magicol to them any further. Sabin's voice was cold when he answered.

"Where they are is of no concern to you at the moment. They are both, however, alive as of the present."

Arzai got the distinct impression that they all stood on the blade of a knife. One breath could bring them falling down on either side, into redemption or ruin. Whatever has possessed Tomur and Margalee to do this, Arzai did not know, and she decided then and there that she did not want to know. Her heart ached, but she shouldered aside the hurt in favor of the righteous anger. The king was not the only one who had been betrayed last night.

"Red Obad Arzai?"

Mahir was speaking and looking straight at her. Could he feel the roiling bonfire of emotions simmering just beneath her surface? She willed him to see the outrage blazing in her eyes, not just for her sake but for all of them. The words came hoarse and quiet with suppressed anger when she answered.

"We disavow utterly the actions of Tomur and Margalee, Your Grace. On behalf of my fellow Obads, I swear to you that we knew nothing of their intent, nor their actions until this very morning. I..." she swallowed. "I am ashamed to be cast in the same light as them, truly."

She could feel the eyes of the entire rest of the Magicol on her. Again Ijireen opened her mouth, but this time it was Davenir who seized hold of her shoulder and squeezed warningly. Bvhoros' expression was unreadable. Arzai had eyes only for the king though. She and Mahir locked gazes so intensely, the two appeared to be trying to read the others thoughts from the air between them.

When at last Mahir leaned back, breaking the spell that had suddenly turned the room as super-charged as a storm, Arzai felt drained. The king likewise looked tired, like a man who had fought off death in the night ought to. She noticed again the mottling of the bruise and the swollen seam of his lip.

"I believe you."

That was all Mahir said, but it felt like the weight of the world lifted from Arzai's shoulders. He had seen that she was as betrayed as he was, if not more, and taken that as truth. Arzai felt vindicated. She believed in the crown, believed in Goran, and her liege believed in her. Arzai could have smiled, if not for the fact remaining that Margalee had been the cause of this damage. It stung like a branding iron to the heart.

With a wave, Mahir summoned forward a page from the corner of the sitting room. A gasp escaped one of them, Arzai didn't know whom, when they saw what lay on the cloth across the girl's hands.

The golden scepter of the High Obad shone hotly even in the pale dawn sunlight from the window. The enormous diamond atop it reflected rainbows across the wooden wall panels, sparkling like a tiny star brought to earth. Smaller but no less significant, the ring of the High Obad lay heavily next to the scepter.

Mahir stood, taking the cloth with its precious burdens across his own hands. He approached the still-kneeling Magicol, the rising sun casting him as a looming silhouette before them. The scepter's jewel glittered before Arzai's eyes.

"Red Obad Arzai, to you I offer the scepter and ring of High Obad. Will you stand as my right hand in your fallen master's stead?"

Arzai recognized the ritual words, not spoken since Master Lirien had died so many winters ago. These were the same words that every king and queen of the Amenthis dynasty had spoken to every High Obad upon their ascension. They were as ancient and unchanged as the bond between the two. For a moment her mind reeled in shock.

Will you stand...?

"I will stand beside you and yours, my lord and king," Arzai said.

It made no sense. It should be Bvhoros to whom Mahir offered the scepter. He was almost fifty years old to her twenty-four, immeasurably more experienced and knowledgeable. He had been an Ovate alongside Master Tomur, and seen the full careers of not one but two High Obads. For her to be both his and Davenir's master beggared logic, not to mention Frandel. Sometimes she could scarcely tell which of the two of them was the superior Red Obad. Some days it definitely felt like the answer to that question was Frandel.

The king was still standing before her, not having suddenly changed his mind and pulled back the offered tokens. As if in a dream, Arzai rose to her feet. There, in her nightgown and robe with her long brown-black hair unbound and her feet in slippers, she took the ring and scepter of High Obad from Mahir's hands. As she slid the thick golden bank onto her index finger, she felt every inch of its journey. Her whole hand suddenly felt heavier, her whole arm even. How could something feel so right and so wrong at the same time?

Just like that, it was done. Mahir waved a hand, indicating the rest of the Magicol was now free to rise. They stood with a quiet rustling of fabric, no one saying a word. The weight of their gazes was nearly as heavy as the ring and scepter.

Once again looking more like a tired, mortal man than a king full of righteous justice, Mahir resumed his seat on the couch. Captain Sabin and the Knights of Amenthis had withdrawn somewhat, spacing themselves around the edges of the room at attention.

"There will be a ceremony of course, in the Hall of Thrones, to officially recognize Arzai as the new High Obad. In the meantime, there is still the matter of the traitors to address."

"Our knights are combing the city for the assassin, Your Grace," said Sabin. "He was wounded during the escape, and thus shouldn't be too hard to mark."

Mahir nodded. "Very good. Him I want publically executed, burnt to death before the eyes of all. Any man who threatens not only myself but Hithon as well deserves no less. As for the treasonous Obads..."

"Your Grace, if I may?" Bvhoros spoke at last. Arzai wanted to speak to him more than anyone about all of this. She couldn't help but wonder if he had known anything about the events of last night.

Mahir frowned slightly, but acquiesced. "Speak, Green Obad."

Bvhoros loomed over all of them, even the king, when standing at full height. His words were careful, measured, revealing the tact with which they were being chosen. Even in his night clothes the man had a way of looking dignified.

"If Green Ovate Roran permits it, I would like to invoke the boon which you granted our Magicol on your son's Birth Day."

All eyes in the room were on Bvhoros now. Flush with the splendor of the golden tree, Mahir had promised the Magicol that they might ask any one favor of the crown and it would be granted without question. Clearly the king had not forgotten; his battered lips instantly pressed into a tight, displeased line.

Unperturbed by the sudden chilly stillness in the air, Bvhoros looked to Roran. "May I, Ovate?"

Green eyes wide above his freckles, Roran looked to Bvhoros like a deer caught in the torchlight. Albeit, a deer with foxy red hair that had been licked in all directions by a cow. Stealing a sideways glance at where the king stood bristling, Roran quickly nodded.

"Very well, what is it that you would ask?" Mahir asked quietly.

"I ask that you show mercy to our fallen Obads. Although we cannot stand by their actions, we remember the years we have spent together, and would not see them harshly put to death. I too am shocked by recent events, but Tomur and I have been friends for over forty years, and I still clearly remember the day young Margalee came to us, her little white face like a doll and eyes the size of blue moons. Let both our gift to your son and the centuries of service the Magicol has shown the throne stand against their errors."

"Errors?"

Mahir turned away at that, his back a rigid, impenetrable wall presented to the Obads. Arzai clenched the scepter in her hands, feeling the metal of the ring click against the rod. Had Bvhoros just destroyed the delicate reprieve she had won them? Everyone scarcely even dared to breathe.

"You truly believe that they are worthy of this one-time boon, never before granted and unlikely to be granted again, even despite what they've done against king and country?" Mahir asked, his back still turned.

"Yes...Your Grace," replied Bvhoros.

"...Very well. I grant your request." Mahir's expression was stern, unapproachable when he once again faced them. Even the damage to the lower half of his face did nothing to soften that carven visage; if anything it only made the king look more distant, like a statue come to life. "Tomur and Margalee shall not be executed. They will, however, still be punished by the law. Their titles and status as Obads of Goran's Magicol are to be stripped. Henceforth if they are found within thirty leagues of Amenthere they are to be arrested as criminals and summarily punished. And finally, they are to be marked." Now Mahir spoke to Sabin, less a narration and more a direct order. "At midday, the traitors will have their eyes put out, so they might never again look upon our world of Goran which they sought to betray. They will then be put outside the city gates with orders never to return."

Arzai tried to ignore the cold feeling in the pit of her stomach as the king pronounced his sentence. Compared to burning alive or even beheading, what Mahir proposed was indeed merciful. Still, Arzai found despite herself that she was already mourning the loss of Margalee's beautiful, impossibly blue eyes. Harshly she shook herself, remembering instead the burning sting of what Margalee and Tomur had done to the king, to Goran, to the Magicol, and to her. This would be hard, but it was right.

"One more thing, before you are dismissed." Mahir once again returned his attention to the waiting Obads. "I order every member of the Magicol to be in attendance when the sentence is carried out in the lower yard. There will be no public presence; no one can know of this...incident between the crown and the Magicol. After all, our partnership constitutes the twin pillars upon which the realm is built, no?"

"Erm..." Arzai was surprised to hear Davenir actually speak up. "Excuse me Your Grace, but every member of the Magicol? Surely not the Ovates-"

"Especially the Ovates, Grey Obad." Mahir's words cracked like a whip. "Clearly loyalty needs to be taught with a somewhat firmer hand to our next generation." His piercing gaze swept over Ijireen, Roran and Brand. "You will ensure that all three of your students are present alongside yourselves, am I clear?"

"My lord-" Bvhoros started to interject.

This was a place where, if Lirien or Tomur had been present, they would have quelled dissent among the ranks of the Magicol. Realizing that that role now fell to her, Arzai spoke sharply and with as much authority as she could project.

"Your king has given you an order, Obads. We serve the crown, do we not?" When Davenir and Bvhoros exchanged a look, she capitalized on the advance. "Do we not?"

Slowly the two men lowered their chins in deference.

"Yes, High Obad."

Despite the chaos that their lives had suddenly plunged into, Arzai smiled.

OoOoO

They all assembled as the king had commanded in the lowest courtyard of the castle at midday. The sun cast long shadows into the well in which they stood, the walls of Castle Armathain looming high all around them. No grass could grow so far below the reach of the sun, and so the yard was paved with smooth stones instead. Despite the heat of the summer, it was cool so far below ground level in the shade. This courtyard, connected to the prisons, served as an exercise yard for any long-term detainees. The only way in or out was through the castle basements, and it was situated so that no casual observers could see inside.

A pit of hot coals had been stoked in the center of the yard, and a pair of long iron rods protruded from it. Bile rose in the back of Arzai's throat when they entered the yard and caught sight of the pit. Firmly clamping down on her reaction, she steeled herself for what was to come.

They betrayed Goran, she reminded herself. Margalee and Tomur betrayed you.

Besides the Magicol, King Mahir and the palace guards, there was one other witness. Arzai was surprised to see Princess Ellorae standing slightly behind her brother, off to one side of the shadowed yard. The gray of the stone walls all around them only served to make the princess's snow-white gown seem even brighter. Princess Ellorae made no move to even acknowledge the arrival of the Magicol. She did however sweep a look over the golden ring on Arzai's finger that the new High Obad did not miss. Her leonine brown eyes narrowed slightly, accentuating the eye-paint the princess wore. Arzai stared right back a little rudely. At the last moment before eye contact though, Ellorae demurred and busied herself with a charm-laden bracelet on her tiny wrist.

When Margalee and Master Tomur were led out into the courtyard from the cells within, they emerged looking strangely like themselves. Arzai didn't know if she'd been expecting the pair to look suddenly sinister, or guilty, or even afraid. Instead, Margalee's expression was almost self-righteous when she sought out Arzai's gaze.

I've done right by myself, now come what may, those mystical blue eyes seemed to declare. Suddenly Arzai couldn't stand the sight of her oldest and best friend. She had to look away. Either that or scream at Margalee in front of everyone.

Tomur meanwhile seemed composed to the point of meditative. His and Margalee's blue robes swished quietly as they walked, surrounded on all sides by Knights of Amenthis and manacled at the wrists with lead binders. Lead had a dulling effect on Obads' magic, not to mention bestowing almost instant rashes. It was one of the only ways to keep a magically-gifted prisoner contained.

Captain Sabin handed his two prisoners over to the Executioner of Armathain. With his features obscured behind a mask of smooth, polished black stone, the executioner cut a fearsome visage. Margalee and Tomur were pushed down to their knees before the brazier, and the executioner reached for the first iron poker nesting in the coals.

Brand cried, Roran had to run off to one side to be sick, and Ijireen shook so hard that it was a wonder the girl didn't collapse in on herself. Davenir's long face went so white it almost matched Princess Ellorae's gown. Bvhoros stood so rigid and grave one might have thought he was actually witnessing an execution. As for Arzai herself, she saw without actually seeing. It may have been cheating, but she allowed herself to sink down into the lightest of casting trances. Throughout the entire ordeal she distracted herself by playing with the glowing coals in the bottom of the brazier, snuffing and igniting them one by one. Margalee and Tomur had ignored the implications of their treason on others, and so she would ignore their pain.

When it was over, Captain Sabin stepped forward to once again take custody of the two prisoners. Staggering, they were pulled to their feet and led from the yard, no long Blue Obads of Goran's Magicol but now blind exiles. The rest of the knights filed from the yard, flanking King Mahir and the Princess Ellorae. The royal pair left without fanfare, the shell-shocked Magicol in their wake.

Resurfacing from her trance, Arzai thumbed the curve of the High Obad's ring. It sat on her finger heavy and cold. The Magicol was hers now, and if the looks Ijireen were sending her were any indication, Arzai's work was only just beginning. The coals within the brazier hissed and spit, sending sparks flying up into the air.

OoOoO