Chapter 3
The Conclave of Magi
===================================================
The bells tolled. Once, twice, three times. Eighteen times did they chime. The lights slowly rose upon the great gathering.
"The appointed time has arrived! Order, please, ORDER!"
The tumultuous noise of various conversations finally dimmed. The room was vast, with a high, vaulted ceiling, lit by torches that floated in mid-air. A semi-circle of twenty-one stone chairs was at its highest end, and the rest was encircled by rows of stands. The meeting hall of the Conclave.
The semicircle of stone chairs was organized into three parts, each sporting seven chairs. At the center of each was an larger, high-backed chair, but the one at the very center was the most grand of all. In the seats sat twenty-one Magi, men, women, elves, and even a Minotaur that were members of the Conclave, the governing body of all Magi in the world of Krynn.
To the left sat Magi in White Robes, and at their center was a stout- looking old man with a curious metallic orb hovering above his balding head. To the right sat Magi in Red Robes, and at their center was a stern- faced woman with elegant, flowing robes. And in the center sat Magi in Black Robes, and at their center was a frail, old-looking elf, who, despite his good-natured appearance, still radiated a sort of selfish cruelty.
Having successfully quelled the crowd with her commanding voice, the Master of the Red Robes sat back down, and the Master of the Black Robes, also Head of the Conclave, stood. He was soft-spoken, eloquent, and rather quiet, but he held the room in such reverence that every whisper was heard by all present.
"You have all been summoned here," Archmagus Rishandal Darkleaf began, "to the Tower of High Sorcery of Wayreth, to hear somewhat alarming news. This body will here discuss and determine the correct course of action for this situation. Magus Rubina Seamist, come forward."
A tall, thin-framed woman in fancy red robes rose from her chair and moved forward, coming to stand upon the Emblem of the Eye embossed upon the floor before the Conclave, awash in light.
"Do you understand why you have been summoned?" the Master of the White Robes, Dricken Flamewright, asked from his chair.
"Yes, I do, Archmagus," Rubina replied confidently.
Drawing forth a scroll, Archmagus Darkleaf uttered some words of the arcane language and it flew through the air into Rubina's waiting hands. He said then, in his quiet voice, "You sent me this letter, did you not?"
After a casual glance down at the letter, Rubina nodded in confirmation. "Yes, Archmagus, I did."
"Please read aloud the marked portions of the letter for the convenience of all gathered."
With a nod, Rubina read aloud, "...Somewhat disturbing, Archmagus Darkleaf, is my newest student. He arrived three days ago. He is of elven stock, Qualinesti, to be exact, and he seems quite eager. However, the disturbing portion to this story is his name and clan. Fenixlyonis Bloodmoon. Son of Jenivarillios Bloodmoon..."
As the name was spoken, select members of the body let out a startled gasp. However, most were obviously confused, looking about questioningly.
"That will do," Archmagus Darkleaf announced. "Now, Magus Seamist, please tell us, has indeed the son of Jenivarillios Bloodmoon come to be taught under you?"
Looking around, Rubina nodded with cautious demeanor, and then determined to keep her eyes fixed on Rishandal. Rishandal looked at her, as if delving with his very eyes into her mind.
"Yes, he has, Archmagus," Rubina said, her voice wavering. She was beginning to wonder if she had done the right thing, accepting him as a student. Would she be punished?
"Thank you," Rishandal concluded. "You may sit down, Magus Seamist."
Rubina complied, hurrying back to the darkness of the stands and the safety it offered from prying eyes. Archmagus Rishandal opened his mouth to speak, when a voice came from the crowd, a woman's,
"Archmagus Rishandal, may I?"
Looking into the crowd, Rishandal smiled his lewd smile. "Ahh, Magus Leia Stormmane. Come forward."
The moderately tall, dirty-blonde wizardess in red robes stood and came forward into the light upon the Emblem. She was well built, strong but still quite attractive. She was still quite young.
"Archmagus Rishandal," she began, "members of the Conclave. Would it not be conducive, and helpful, to the rest of this body if you were to explain the significance of this name, 'Jenivarillios Bloodmoon'?"
Rishandal Darkleaf let out a long, heavy sigh, then sat down in his chair. "Very well, I will retell the story of Jenivarillios Bloodmoon, as we know it..."
===================================================
Magus Jenivarillios Bloodmoon, known by most of his colleagues as Jenivar, was an astoundingly brilliant student. Born to the Bloodmoon clan of Qualinost, he was widely recognized for his skill with the Art. He was of Black Robes, like myself, but I never taught him. He began his advanced learning shortly after I took my own Test, and so I was being apprenticed at the time by another elven Wizard.
About thirty years after he entered advanced learning, he took his Test, and passed. He joined me as Apprentice to Magus Shiradron Blackbloom. We became friends during that period, and soon after I graduated from Apprenticeship, Jenivar was transferred to be Apprenticed under me. Again, I discovered he was a brilliant student, and he completed his Apprenticeship under me in just six years.
The two of us had become equals. We often studied together, exchanged spellbooks, and for one short while lived in the same room of the Tower of Palanthas. But then, he disappeared.
Several years later, I received a letter from him informing me that he had returned to Qualinost to marry, having hidden his Black Robes from his wife and the rest of the elves. He told me that they had a newborn son, and that they expected to have another in just a few years. I was quite happy for him, but also knew that Black Robes were a hard thing to hide from the elves. As the subsequent forty years passed, his letter became increasingly strange. He spoke often of Nuitari watching his eldest, but he also spoke about the ways he discriminated against his older son, denying him the right to study magic and giving favoritism to his younger son.
Then his letters stopped. His sons were, as far as I could calculate, forty and twenty-nine years, respectively. I never knew their names. Ten years later Jenivarillios resurfaced. For all accounts it was certain that he had gone mad. He declared himself a renegade, said that he would be the next Galan Dracos and that Nuitari was on his side. He began a reign of terror within the Orders of High Sorcery. I went to deal with him myself.
That's when I discovered just how radically powerful he had become. But twenty of us, mostly Black Robes, finally cornered him in Karthay, when one of his former students, Rubina Seamist, lured him into a trap. We all pounced on him, my Black Robe fellows and I determined to kill him, but the two White Robes refused to do so, and tried to merely restrain him.
We might have gotten rid of him in the encounter for sure had they not interfered, but we honestly do not know what became of Jenivar. I summoned a Dancing Blade and sent it at him, impaling him in his back. Several other spells from my Black Robe fellows stuck him before the White Robes could place protection over him. Then he began to try and cast a spell when a huge explosion knocked us all back against the walls.
He was gone, and has not been seen since.
===================================================
"We don't know what became of him," Rishandal concluded. "He may have died or escaped. We still today don't know what the limits of his power were."
Leia had stood, listening with interest. As Rishandal concluded, she shrugged, almost carelessly, and then returned to her seat. Whispers spread through the hall, panicked whispers, wondering what this could mean for the Conclave. Once again, the Master of the Red Robes stood and called for Order.
"That is why we are concerned about this son of his, Fenixlyonis," Rishandal explained.
"He could be intending to follow in his fathers' footsteps, or he could be completely innocent," Dricken said loudly. "This body must decide a course of action. Shall we allow him to study? Shall we deny him the right to study? Shall we banish him, execute him, or kill him?"
The roar that went up from the crowd was deafening. Jeers, shouts, quite well separated between the robes. The White Robes were shouting that he was innocent and should be allowed to learn. The Red Robes thought it was too risky and that he should be encouraged to find some other career, but that it wasn't severe enough to merit banishment or execution, but the Black Robes were divided, some arguing for execution and some arguing that he should indeed be allowed to live, especially if he's watched by Nuitari. The Master of the Red Robes stood again, her anger seeming to radiate like a sweltering heat.
"Lunitari's idish, I said ORDER!"
The crowd went silent yet again, many trembling at the raw anger present in her voice.
"We are here to conduct a CIVIL meeting of the Conclave!" she reprimanded sternly. "You are all experienced, intelligent wizards, so stop in-fighting like impotent goblins!"
She sat back down again, and absolute silence reigned over the hall. Rishandal smiled at her.
"Thank you, Ieisha," he said to her, then returned his gaze to the crowd. "First, let's take a hand count. Who is in favor of allowing him to study?"
Roughly one third of the hands raised, mostly White Robes, and about half the Black Robes. Rishandal knew then what the decision would be. Politics, he thought bitterly, they even affect we Magi.
"Who then," he continued, "is in favor of prohibiting him from study?"
Again, roughly one third of the hands raised, mostly Red Robes. Dricken sent Rishandal a look that said, "You know what will happen now." Rishandal smiled ruefully at him. He did. The Black Robes would be split down the middle, giving about half their weight to the White Robes' position. None would support the Red Robes' position. The other half would support execution.
"Who then," he concluded, "is in favor of execution?"
Roughly half the Black Robes raised their hands, with a small smattering of the more liberal-minded Red Robes. Rishandal nodded grimly at the body.
"The body has spoken," he said wearily. "We of the Conclave shall remain in the meeting hall to reach the final decision."
Many of the Magi got up to leave, but a select few remained, Rubina and Leia among them. They were rooted in their seats, and were determined to learn all they could. Leia, being she had a great dislike for renegades, having been a student of a turncoat herself, and Rubina, obviously, because it was her student in question.
One of the elder White Robes on the Conclave, Aulicia Whiteblaze, spoke first,
"We cannot go against the choice of the Three Orders together, but it is up to us to decide the specifics of this situation."
The three masters nodded in confirmation. Dricken spoke first, as it is customary for White to speak first, Black to speak last.
"We must allow him to study, according to the letter, this Fenixlyonis hates his father. That much is clear."
"It may be an act," Rishandal interjected. "He may be trying to throw us off."
"I seriously doubt it," Dricken affirmed. "Despite the fact that this Fenixlyonis has a strong likelihood of following his father into the Black Robes, we cannot be absolutely certain of this. Neither can we be sure that his loyalties will not lie with the Conclave."
"I would prefer that he not be given the chance," Ieisha said sternly. "We shouldn't even teach him, but the body has spoken. I would suggest we advise Rubina to teach him at an agonizingly slow pace, perhaps then he will be discouraged and leave of his own accord."
"Not possible," interjected the Black Robe, known as Aislynn Whiteblaze, sitting to the right of Rishandal. "According to Magus Seamist he has already learned to cast spells. He cannot be allowed to live outside Conclave jurisdiction. He must die or he must learn, and since dying has been ruled out, he must learn. It is the only option."
"I agree," Rishandal said in support of this claim. "The young Novice is just that, a Novice, and thus is past the point of no return. I would prefer to kill him and be done with it, having known his father myself, but as that has been removed from the table by our White Robe brothers, he must learn, and must be taught like any other student. No discrimination."
"Well," another Black Robe replied silkily, "We could always allow him to take his Test, and then assure that he failed it..."
"An outrage!" Dricken snapped. "Do you want to anger the Three Moons with your impudence!? That would be open blasphemy!"
"It was just a suggestion," the Black Robe replied offhandedly. He leaned back into his seat and closed his eyes.
"He will need limitations," Rishandal said sternly. "See to it that he learns slowly. We should do whatever it takes. If he rises slowly to power, learning patience his father never learned, he will likely be more apt to succeed as a mage, as I have."
The Conclave sat in silent consideration. Finally, Dricken spoke,
"I agree, Archmagus. I will personally see to it that he learns at a slower pace."
Dricken turns to face Magus Seamist, still sitting silent in the stands. "You will teach the young Novice for three years, then once he has attained the Third Circle I will take over from there."
Rubina nodded grimly, then Rishandal addressed the Conclave,
"Are we in agreement?"
After a few moments, all the Conclave members nodded in unison.
"We will keep a close eye on him," Rishandal ordered. "Hopefully, things will turn out for the best."
And if they don't, he mused to himself, then Nuitari help us.
The Conclave of Magi
===================================================
The bells tolled. Once, twice, three times. Eighteen times did they chime. The lights slowly rose upon the great gathering.
"The appointed time has arrived! Order, please, ORDER!"
The tumultuous noise of various conversations finally dimmed. The room was vast, with a high, vaulted ceiling, lit by torches that floated in mid-air. A semi-circle of twenty-one stone chairs was at its highest end, and the rest was encircled by rows of stands. The meeting hall of the Conclave.
The semicircle of stone chairs was organized into three parts, each sporting seven chairs. At the center of each was an larger, high-backed chair, but the one at the very center was the most grand of all. In the seats sat twenty-one Magi, men, women, elves, and even a Minotaur that were members of the Conclave, the governing body of all Magi in the world of Krynn.
To the left sat Magi in White Robes, and at their center was a stout- looking old man with a curious metallic orb hovering above his balding head. To the right sat Magi in Red Robes, and at their center was a stern- faced woman with elegant, flowing robes. And in the center sat Magi in Black Robes, and at their center was a frail, old-looking elf, who, despite his good-natured appearance, still radiated a sort of selfish cruelty.
Having successfully quelled the crowd with her commanding voice, the Master of the Red Robes sat back down, and the Master of the Black Robes, also Head of the Conclave, stood. He was soft-spoken, eloquent, and rather quiet, but he held the room in such reverence that every whisper was heard by all present.
"You have all been summoned here," Archmagus Rishandal Darkleaf began, "to the Tower of High Sorcery of Wayreth, to hear somewhat alarming news. This body will here discuss and determine the correct course of action for this situation. Magus Rubina Seamist, come forward."
A tall, thin-framed woman in fancy red robes rose from her chair and moved forward, coming to stand upon the Emblem of the Eye embossed upon the floor before the Conclave, awash in light.
"Do you understand why you have been summoned?" the Master of the White Robes, Dricken Flamewright, asked from his chair.
"Yes, I do, Archmagus," Rubina replied confidently.
Drawing forth a scroll, Archmagus Darkleaf uttered some words of the arcane language and it flew through the air into Rubina's waiting hands. He said then, in his quiet voice, "You sent me this letter, did you not?"
After a casual glance down at the letter, Rubina nodded in confirmation. "Yes, Archmagus, I did."
"Please read aloud the marked portions of the letter for the convenience of all gathered."
With a nod, Rubina read aloud, "...Somewhat disturbing, Archmagus Darkleaf, is my newest student. He arrived three days ago. He is of elven stock, Qualinesti, to be exact, and he seems quite eager. However, the disturbing portion to this story is his name and clan. Fenixlyonis Bloodmoon. Son of Jenivarillios Bloodmoon..."
As the name was spoken, select members of the body let out a startled gasp. However, most were obviously confused, looking about questioningly.
"That will do," Archmagus Darkleaf announced. "Now, Magus Seamist, please tell us, has indeed the son of Jenivarillios Bloodmoon come to be taught under you?"
Looking around, Rubina nodded with cautious demeanor, and then determined to keep her eyes fixed on Rishandal. Rishandal looked at her, as if delving with his very eyes into her mind.
"Yes, he has, Archmagus," Rubina said, her voice wavering. She was beginning to wonder if she had done the right thing, accepting him as a student. Would she be punished?
"Thank you," Rishandal concluded. "You may sit down, Magus Seamist."
Rubina complied, hurrying back to the darkness of the stands and the safety it offered from prying eyes. Archmagus Rishandal opened his mouth to speak, when a voice came from the crowd, a woman's,
"Archmagus Rishandal, may I?"
Looking into the crowd, Rishandal smiled his lewd smile. "Ahh, Magus Leia Stormmane. Come forward."
The moderately tall, dirty-blonde wizardess in red robes stood and came forward into the light upon the Emblem. She was well built, strong but still quite attractive. She was still quite young.
"Archmagus Rishandal," she began, "members of the Conclave. Would it not be conducive, and helpful, to the rest of this body if you were to explain the significance of this name, 'Jenivarillios Bloodmoon'?"
Rishandal Darkleaf let out a long, heavy sigh, then sat down in his chair. "Very well, I will retell the story of Jenivarillios Bloodmoon, as we know it..."
===================================================
Magus Jenivarillios Bloodmoon, known by most of his colleagues as Jenivar, was an astoundingly brilliant student. Born to the Bloodmoon clan of Qualinost, he was widely recognized for his skill with the Art. He was of Black Robes, like myself, but I never taught him. He began his advanced learning shortly after I took my own Test, and so I was being apprenticed at the time by another elven Wizard.
About thirty years after he entered advanced learning, he took his Test, and passed. He joined me as Apprentice to Magus Shiradron Blackbloom. We became friends during that period, and soon after I graduated from Apprenticeship, Jenivar was transferred to be Apprenticed under me. Again, I discovered he was a brilliant student, and he completed his Apprenticeship under me in just six years.
The two of us had become equals. We often studied together, exchanged spellbooks, and for one short while lived in the same room of the Tower of Palanthas. But then, he disappeared.
Several years later, I received a letter from him informing me that he had returned to Qualinost to marry, having hidden his Black Robes from his wife and the rest of the elves. He told me that they had a newborn son, and that they expected to have another in just a few years. I was quite happy for him, but also knew that Black Robes were a hard thing to hide from the elves. As the subsequent forty years passed, his letter became increasingly strange. He spoke often of Nuitari watching his eldest, but he also spoke about the ways he discriminated against his older son, denying him the right to study magic and giving favoritism to his younger son.
Then his letters stopped. His sons were, as far as I could calculate, forty and twenty-nine years, respectively. I never knew their names. Ten years later Jenivarillios resurfaced. For all accounts it was certain that he had gone mad. He declared himself a renegade, said that he would be the next Galan Dracos and that Nuitari was on his side. He began a reign of terror within the Orders of High Sorcery. I went to deal with him myself.
That's when I discovered just how radically powerful he had become. But twenty of us, mostly Black Robes, finally cornered him in Karthay, when one of his former students, Rubina Seamist, lured him into a trap. We all pounced on him, my Black Robe fellows and I determined to kill him, but the two White Robes refused to do so, and tried to merely restrain him.
We might have gotten rid of him in the encounter for sure had they not interfered, but we honestly do not know what became of Jenivar. I summoned a Dancing Blade and sent it at him, impaling him in his back. Several other spells from my Black Robe fellows stuck him before the White Robes could place protection over him. Then he began to try and cast a spell when a huge explosion knocked us all back against the walls.
He was gone, and has not been seen since.
===================================================
"We don't know what became of him," Rishandal concluded. "He may have died or escaped. We still today don't know what the limits of his power were."
Leia had stood, listening with interest. As Rishandal concluded, she shrugged, almost carelessly, and then returned to her seat. Whispers spread through the hall, panicked whispers, wondering what this could mean for the Conclave. Once again, the Master of the Red Robes stood and called for Order.
"That is why we are concerned about this son of his, Fenixlyonis," Rishandal explained.
"He could be intending to follow in his fathers' footsteps, or he could be completely innocent," Dricken said loudly. "This body must decide a course of action. Shall we allow him to study? Shall we deny him the right to study? Shall we banish him, execute him, or kill him?"
The roar that went up from the crowd was deafening. Jeers, shouts, quite well separated between the robes. The White Robes were shouting that he was innocent and should be allowed to learn. The Red Robes thought it was too risky and that he should be encouraged to find some other career, but that it wasn't severe enough to merit banishment or execution, but the Black Robes were divided, some arguing for execution and some arguing that he should indeed be allowed to live, especially if he's watched by Nuitari. The Master of the Red Robes stood again, her anger seeming to radiate like a sweltering heat.
"Lunitari's idish, I said ORDER!"
The crowd went silent yet again, many trembling at the raw anger present in her voice.
"We are here to conduct a CIVIL meeting of the Conclave!" she reprimanded sternly. "You are all experienced, intelligent wizards, so stop in-fighting like impotent goblins!"
She sat back down again, and absolute silence reigned over the hall. Rishandal smiled at her.
"Thank you, Ieisha," he said to her, then returned his gaze to the crowd. "First, let's take a hand count. Who is in favor of allowing him to study?"
Roughly one third of the hands raised, mostly White Robes, and about half the Black Robes. Rishandal knew then what the decision would be. Politics, he thought bitterly, they even affect we Magi.
"Who then," he continued, "is in favor of prohibiting him from study?"
Again, roughly one third of the hands raised, mostly Red Robes. Dricken sent Rishandal a look that said, "You know what will happen now." Rishandal smiled ruefully at him. He did. The Black Robes would be split down the middle, giving about half their weight to the White Robes' position. None would support the Red Robes' position. The other half would support execution.
"Who then," he concluded, "is in favor of execution?"
Roughly half the Black Robes raised their hands, with a small smattering of the more liberal-minded Red Robes. Rishandal nodded grimly at the body.
"The body has spoken," he said wearily. "We of the Conclave shall remain in the meeting hall to reach the final decision."
Many of the Magi got up to leave, but a select few remained, Rubina and Leia among them. They were rooted in their seats, and were determined to learn all they could. Leia, being she had a great dislike for renegades, having been a student of a turncoat herself, and Rubina, obviously, because it was her student in question.
One of the elder White Robes on the Conclave, Aulicia Whiteblaze, spoke first,
"We cannot go against the choice of the Three Orders together, but it is up to us to decide the specifics of this situation."
The three masters nodded in confirmation. Dricken spoke first, as it is customary for White to speak first, Black to speak last.
"We must allow him to study, according to the letter, this Fenixlyonis hates his father. That much is clear."
"It may be an act," Rishandal interjected. "He may be trying to throw us off."
"I seriously doubt it," Dricken affirmed. "Despite the fact that this Fenixlyonis has a strong likelihood of following his father into the Black Robes, we cannot be absolutely certain of this. Neither can we be sure that his loyalties will not lie with the Conclave."
"I would prefer that he not be given the chance," Ieisha said sternly. "We shouldn't even teach him, but the body has spoken. I would suggest we advise Rubina to teach him at an agonizingly slow pace, perhaps then he will be discouraged and leave of his own accord."
"Not possible," interjected the Black Robe, known as Aislynn Whiteblaze, sitting to the right of Rishandal. "According to Magus Seamist he has already learned to cast spells. He cannot be allowed to live outside Conclave jurisdiction. He must die or he must learn, and since dying has been ruled out, he must learn. It is the only option."
"I agree," Rishandal said in support of this claim. "The young Novice is just that, a Novice, and thus is past the point of no return. I would prefer to kill him and be done with it, having known his father myself, but as that has been removed from the table by our White Robe brothers, he must learn, and must be taught like any other student. No discrimination."
"Well," another Black Robe replied silkily, "We could always allow him to take his Test, and then assure that he failed it..."
"An outrage!" Dricken snapped. "Do you want to anger the Three Moons with your impudence!? That would be open blasphemy!"
"It was just a suggestion," the Black Robe replied offhandedly. He leaned back into his seat and closed his eyes.
"He will need limitations," Rishandal said sternly. "See to it that he learns slowly. We should do whatever it takes. If he rises slowly to power, learning patience his father never learned, he will likely be more apt to succeed as a mage, as I have."
The Conclave sat in silent consideration. Finally, Dricken spoke,
"I agree, Archmagus. I will personally see to it that he learns at a slower pace."
Dricken turns to face Magus Seamist, still sitting silent in the stands. "You will teach the young Novice for three years, then once he has attained the Third Circle I will take over from there."
Rubina nodded grimly, then Rishandal addressed the Conclave,
"Are we in agreement?"
After a few moments, all the Conclave members nodded in unison.
"We will keep a close eye on him," Rishandal ordered. "Hopefully, things will turn out for the best."
And if they don't, he mused to himself, then Nuitari help us.