Author's Note: This is my first attempt at writing a story with chapters. You'll get the rest of the chapters if I don't have technical difficulities uploading them.
I invented a last name for Justarius and Jenna because, well, they need one. If anyone happens to know if they have a cannonical surname, please tell me.
It was stiflingly hot for spring at Wayreth that day of the open audience of the Conclave. Most of Krynn assumed that the Conclave only met to discuss matters of near mythic proportions, but those assembled knew better. Three times a year the Heads of the Orders would convene an open Conclave for any who had business with the Tower of Wayreth. This was the time when mages and denizens of the Tower, peasants from the villages beholden to Wayreth, and nobles with magical alliances would come to discuss taxes and tithes, grievances and counter-grievances, contracts made and contracts broken.
Amidst the gathered throng sat a red-robed mage. The mage's hood was up, and the robe itself was nondescript, with no runes or insignia to mark the rank or position of the mage. The red-robe sat quietly, observing the proceedings, and doing nothing to draw attention.
The three Lords of the Conclave were seated in high-backed carved wooden chairs on a raised dais facing the crowd of petitioners on wooden benches. To the left of the Head of the Conclave sat Dalamar Nightson of the Black Robes, who was openly bored with the proceedings. He was leaning back in his chair, idly dancing a coin across his fingers, and occasionally interjecting a sharp question towards a petitioner. Of those in the Hall, perhaps only the red-robed observer kenw how much of Lord Dalamar's indifference was in truth a mask which served the Conclave's purposes.
To the right sat Dunbar Mastermate of the Order of White Robes, who was trying, and failing, to appear attentive. Though he was the most powerful wizard of his order, he felt ill at ease on the land, prefering instead his floating Tower on the sea.
Only the man in the center appeared calm, focused, in control. His robe was of the same color as the observer's own, although of a much finer cloth. His black and silver hair was tied back at the nape of his neck, and his beard was neatly trimmed. Only the red-robed petitioner recognized that Justarius Deleon, Leader of the Conclave of Wizards, was just as bored as his fellows.
Well, that was about to change.
The majordomo, standing to the side of the room, called for the next petitioner to come forth. The red-robed mage stood, walked to the front of the Hall, and bowed low to the men on the dais.
"Please state your name and your purpose for coming before the Conclave," the majordomo intoned.
"An it please my Lords," rang out a clear, strong, and unmistakeably female voice, "I wish to petition the Conclave to take my Test." The woman pushed back her hood, revealing a head of golden hair neatly pulled up in a bun. "My name is Jenna Deleon."
The room went silent, save for the sound of the coin that had fallen, forgotten, from Dalamar Nightson's fingers and was clattering on the marble floor. Dalamar turned and raised an eyebrow to Dunbar Mastermate, who shrugged his shoulders. Jenna had kept her plans well-hidden. She looked calmly at her father, who was plainly furious.
"How dare you?" Justarius hissed icily. "You will take the Test when we summon you - when I summon you - and not before. Of all the impertinent -"
"With respect, my lord," Jenna broke in smoothly, "I am well within my rights to petition to take the Test."
"You're only 21 years of age! The right of petition is for older mages who feel they're ready and who have a letter from a wizard in good standing who can attest to their skill level."
"I have that," the young woman replied. She reached into her sleeve and with a floruish produced a sealed letter. "A missive from my teacher, Mistress Rasilas, attesting to my skills as a mage and declaring that I've been ready for my Test for the past two years." She walked coolly to the dais and presented the letter to her father who, glaring, refused to take it. Dalamar Nightson, with an exasperated sigh, finally broke the stalemate by taking and opening the letter.
"It is as she says, Justarius," the black-robe commented. "The missive is in Mistsress Rasilas' hand and with her seal."
"That matters not," Justarius snarled, eyes still locked with his daughter's. "As the Head of Jenna's order, I decide when she's ready, and I say she's not."
Dunbar laid his hand on Justarius' arm. "Perhaps we should confer in private."
Jenna stood still as a marble statue, betraying no emotion, as the three Conclave Lords withdrew to a corner. She was unable to hear what they were saying, but she could see first Dunbar and then Dalamar speak insistantly to her father. Were they both championing her then? Her father, who unfortunately was the head of her order, looked most displeased.
At last the three men returned to their chairs. The Head of the Conclave spoke coldly. "Jenna Deleon, do you agree to abide by our decision, whatever it may be?"
"I do, my lord," Jenna answered, her calm demeanor at odds with her racing heart.
"We deny your petition." Justarius looked at Jenna, who lowered her eyes to hide her confusion and frustration. "The Conclave further commands your presence before us in six months time so that you may be Tested." Jenna's head shot up. "Be warned, Mistress, that the penalty for failure is death."
"Yes, my lord. Thank you!"
"I am not finished." Justarius paused. "Your tuteledge under Mistress Rasilas is at an end, since it seems she has nothing further to teach you. For the next six months, you will study with Lord Dunbar Mastermate in preparation for the Test and, should you live, you will contract with him as his apprentice. Lord Dalamar Nightson will administer the Test. Do you agree to these conditions?"
"I do, my lord," Jenna answered. She'd hoped to continue her studies with Mistress Rasilas, or perhaps travel to Palanthas to study at Lord Dalamar's Tower. Shipboard life did not appeal to her, but at least Justarius had not demanded that she be apprenticed to him. That would be untenable.
"Very well, then," snapped Justarius. "This session of the Conclave is adjourned."
Immediately the hall fell to murmuring. Jenna let out a deep breath. She was to be Tested! She couldn't quite believe she'd pulled it off.
Lord Dunbar hurried over to her amidst the bustle of the hall. "Do you know that you can die?" he demanded.
"Yes, my lord," Jenna replied patiently. "Those who wish to study the deepest magics must be prepared to sacrifice everything, unto their very lives, for the priviledge."
"We have a lot of work ahead of us. I'll expect to see you outside of the North Tower at dawn tomorrow."
"I shall be there."
Dunbar looked at her with new-found respect. Jenna kenw he'd not thought much of her after she broke with his son. But he now addressed her as a fellow mage. "What you did today took great courage." Someone called his name. "I'll see you tomorrow," he said, and then walked away.
Lord Dalamar approached her and asked, "Do you know that you can die?"
With a sigh, Jenna answered, "Yes, my lord. Those who wish to study the deepest magics must be prepared to sacrifice everything, unto their very lives, for the priviledge."
"There are worse things than death," the dark wizard continued. "You know what happened to your father. And I've seen many a beautiful woman survive the Test only to curse the sight of her own face in a mirror."
"Did such considerations give you pause, my lord?" Jenna asked, studiously innocent.
The dark elf raised an eyebrow. "Are you calling me vain, young woman?"
"Not at all. I simply wished to point out that you let nothing stand in your way in your pursuit of magic. Nor shall I."
Dalamar's lips twitched slightly. "Very well, then. I shall see you in six months' time." He turned to go, and then abruptly turned back. "Very well-played, Mistress." And the Head of the Order of Black Robes bowed to her before striding from the hall.
Jenna tried to surpress her smile. That was a rare honor indeed. All in all, the day had progressed much better than she had anticipated. Then she caught sight of her father stalking towards her. If he asks me if I know that I can die, I'll scream, she thought to herself, but schooled her expression into one of neutratlity.
Justarius didn't stop, but slowed down long enough to say in a controlled voice, "You will have dinner with your mother and I this evening." The angry tapping of his staff as he limped out of the hall beat a harsh staccatto on the marble floor, cutting through the chatter of the room.
Later that evening, as Jenna approached Justarius' apartments, she felt quite pleased with herself. She'd managed to circumvent Justarius and gain permission to take the Test!
It was with this air of confidence that Jenna knocked on the door, only to have it yanked open by her mother, who immediately demanded, "Do you know that you can die?"