Master Plojbil Ernengtion, guild master of the enchanters guild, stood and faced me. “Seneschal, the counts tally.” He stated firmly and sat back down.

  There were some sighs of relief that they would not need to conduct a second roll, which by law mandated assembling all mages by guild. It was a process that would easily add another thirty minutes to the process, which is why so much care was given in the first round of rolls.

  I nodded my thanks to the Reeves and said, “Then we will begin with our first order of business-”

  “Which is an explanation why we were called out of sequence for this meeting!” The troublesome elementalist nearly shouted.

  I stared directly at him. “The explanation is simple, master elementalist. It is because I summoned you.”

  He sputtered in anger, a behavior uncharacteristic of the normally self-controlled elves and something that drew gasps from many around the room. He made it worse by demanding heatedly, “And by what right, human?”

  I remained calm and expressionless, the perfect opposite of his emotional outburst. I spoke more quietly, as if to protect his privacy, but my voice still carried. It would magically reach all ears in the room so long as I remained on the Speaker’s Stone.

  “By the same right and tradition that gives me authority to restrain and gag you for the remainder of Council. Do you wish to challenge me on that as well?”

  There were many murmurs around the room, some in support of me and others in support of the elementalist.

  I nodded to the Steward, who once more struck the staff to the floor, and a green light flashed in the room. It silenced the room and sent an electrical shock to all present except the king, the Steward, and me.

  Before the elementalist or others could recover, I asked, “After a moment of silent reflection, dear elementalist, do you still wish to draw singular attention to yourself so early in Council, or may we move on to the business of state?”

  It was clear that he thought about making a comment, but after some subtle movement or gesture by the paladin and wizard behind me, whatever it had been, it caused him to sit back in his chair, and he shut up, suddenly. A look of surprise and perhaps even fear in his eyes.

  “Seeing no further disruptions, we shall continue,” I stated dryly and in a manner consistent with how elves would both behave and expect. The outbursts by the elementalist could not have been coincidental, but I did not understand what purpose, beyond simple derision or insult, they could have served.

  “Our first order of business is to inform Council and address the fact that Elvendell has been infiltrated by our enemies. The actions of these traitors have led to the deaths of citizens and penetration of our strongest protections due to the presence of Slayers in the city.”

  Unlike the murmuring of before, the room became utterly silent with the importance of those words settling upon every mage. Most already suspected some betrayal, but to hear it in open chambers in such a direct way, stunned them all.

  Elves were used to subtlety, intrigue, games, and mysteries. It was rare that direct statements of any significance were made, and even rarer that they should come from one in high authority. It was so out of character that the weight of the words struck deeply. Both the grandmaster wizard and grandmistress of arbors insisted that I deliver it just as I had.

  My authority was second only to the king, and in this chamber and under these circumstances, my authority equaled his own.

  Many eyes turned to the king and almost pleaded that he deny or acknowledge these unimaginable words.

  The king remained silent and unmoving. It was almost as if he were not present at all. But gone was his lazy nonchalance. There was an anger in his eyes. But it was impossible to know if what angered him was me or my words.

  Unauthorized duplication: this narrative has been taken without consent. Report sightings.

  Luckily, I knew which it was. Or hope I did.

  I continued. “As Seneschal, I command that all present remove all non-detection magics immediately. Anyone failing to do so will face charges of treason.”

  The room erupted from silence into angry noise, the words hard to make out, but the sentiment clear. I was accusing them, questioning their loyalty, and they took such an insult personally.

  I allowed the noise to continue for several seconds and then nodded to the Steward once more.

  Yet another BOOM sounded across the hall with a flash of green light.

  A few of the mages had been expecting it this time and, in annoyance, cast a spell that protected them from the effect. It was an insult to me and tradition, but I ignored it. I wanted them riled up, and they certainly were at that point.

  The Commander cautioned me that the next stage had to be handled carefully, or it could all fall down around me and backfire. I needed their emotions running high so I could sway them from anger at me to anger at our enemy, but it was risky.

  Just as the silence effect dissipated and a few voices began to start up again, I stated loudly, “Wizards!”

  And as one, every wizard in the room stood, summoning their war staves as they did.

  That silenced the room more effectively than the Steward’s staff. And even the prideful had no counterspell to the effect of a double score of wizards acting in unison.

  An action like this had never occurred in living memory within Council, and I sensed that their emotion shifted from anger at me to confusion and even fear. Most now knew that this was not a power play by an upstart human, but something far deeper and dangerous.

  Wizards were the most powerful mages in the realm. Elven wizards are even more so, given their long life and access to deep reserves of magical power and knowledge.

  It was only the ever-present restraint of wizards and their vows of obedience to justice that prevented fellow mages from fearing them. But in the minds of all mages, instilled from their time as young apprentices, they knew about the depths of a wizard’s power and their unwavering service to justice.

  The room remained silent. Now all eyes were once more set upon me.

  I spoke once more in a calm and steady voice. “Wizards, take your positions.”

  They moved to previously selected positions around the hall that gave maximum coverage, should actions need to be taken.

  And every mage in the room understood that.

  But what they probably did not recognize was that near these same positions stood either a cleric or a cleric apprentice. Eyes were on me or the wizards, wondering what the next action would be. I could tell that several mages, for good or ill, began to prepare themselves.

  “Our brother and sister wizards,” I continued, “will search our hall for any signs of shadow, infernal, or necromantic magics. Council, it is now time for you to remove any objects or spells of non-detection. Do this, now.”

  A few mages removed a necklace, ring, or cast a spell at my words. It took a few moments, but many more followed suit. But I estimated that only half of those in attendance did so.

  “I repeat, not as an insult, but for absolute clarity. Failure to remove your non-detection will be treated as an act of treason, and there will be swift action taken.” I paused. “And for those of you who think that we will be unable to know those who decide not to obey this command, understand that before the wizards cast their own detections, the clerics present will cast detect life. Anyone not affected by their spell is either not living or is a traitor to our kingdom.”

  Quite a few more removed an object or cast a quick spell.

  I lost track of how many took action, but I believed it to be nearly everyone.

  It was time.

  “Clerics, cast your spells,” I commanded.

  The room was filled with mages who were outlined in a green glow. Life was abundant in the room.

  Except for around four mages.

  “Now,” I commanded gently.

  Wizards and royal guardsmen rushed four mages.

  The first, on the outskirts of the room closest to the exit, was an ancient elf who never saw the wizards come for him. I felt terrible because it seemed to me that he was either hard of hearing and had been humming to himself harmlessly, or that he was so old as not to have his wits about him.

  He was quickly and summarily subdued by spell and had Elven Silver handcuffs placed upon him, and his hands were behind his back.

  A second mage, and one I had been watching carefully, was the vocal elementalist. He threw a spell of magical defense around himself, but with several wizards nearby, it was countered. In moments, he was also subdued on the ground and cuffed, although he did not go quietly.

  His shouting and behavior, whether deliberate or coerced, had distracted many in the room, and so the next two had almost, but not quite, caught everyone by surprise.

  The conjurer who had walked in with the elementalist stood and summoned around a dozen shadow beasts to him. How he managed that in the magically warded and protected hall, I have no idea. Thankfully, the creatures were not Shadow Corpses or Slayers. They were still insectoid in features, but they were a cross between giant scorpions and centipedes. Two of my least favorite insects, truth be told. There were even a few shadow wasps thrown in to keep things interesting.

  The conjurer created quite a stir with his summonings and had it not been for a quick counterspell by a wizard, the wand that shot fireballs directed at the throne may have done some serious damage in the hall.

  But he was not uncontested. Other mages, some of whom had already sensed where I was going and had prepared to take action if needed, cast spells or struck at the shadow beasts with their summoned war staves. A few attacks were also directed at him.

  And all of this was merely a warm-up for what happened with a summoner seated quite near to where the king and I were located.

  In a scream that lasted far longer than was possible from the lungs of a human or elf, a massive, shadowy blob exploded from the mage’s chest. The shadow creature was partially a shadowy mist and partially solid.

  Spells were released at it, but still it grew.

  The King stood, no longer playing his part as a dispassionate bystander, as our protectors leaped from behind and stood between us and the monstrous creature. The king held a glowing sword in his hand, and I suddenly realized that I had both drawn mine and held my staff as well.

  Sir Daeqen shouted, “It is a Lord of Shadow. A legendary creature.”

  And that was when things took a turn for the worse.