"Right," Winterbell stood up, as if Estirdalin's answer had been obvious, and she'd just been waiting for it. "Eddie, go and get those things I want you to sell and get moving. Recall back when you're done and good luck."

Eddie nodded and hurried out, glad to be out of the mistrustful gaze of the Mages. Winterbell thanked Gaydar and Llarar, and told them they were free to go when they wished. Gaydar went out to catch a stilt-strider, rather than travel by magic, but to everyone's surprise Llarar stayed and started buying things. Presumably no return to civilization could be wasted, and he hovered over Ajira as she made up a batch of blight potions with a rather bemused air.

"Trebonius first, then Gotheren," Winterbell announced to no one in particular, although everyone was listening. "I need that last vote on the Telvanni Council and I won't get that until Eddie comes back."
"Where's he going?" Marayan asked, speaking up for the first time.
"Mournhold. I've been tracking down Edwinna's murderer, and I think it all started there."

That got a reaction, as Winterbell had intended it to do. She refused to say more on the subject, and entreated everyone to keep quiet about it. She had no doubt the news would get back to the person responsible, but she didn't think she was tipping her hand too much.

No one really wanted to leave, but no one had much left to say, either. Everyone seemed to be in a mild state of shock, except for Winterbell, Ajira and Marayan. Sharn looked furious, but she did nothing more than mutter unhappily to herself as she tidied up her workbench.

Winterbell didn't want to be the first to leave, and so she wandered over and asked Marayan how his little obsessions were going.
"I tried to have a look around, to get what I wanted. It's impossible – I may have to take your advice. Although I'd rather not."
"So you're actually going to do it then?"
"I don't have any choice. I can't let him get away with this. I'm hoping he'll pull his horns in, but I don't hold out much hope. And I can't wait much longer."
"Why not?"
"Because I want to be here when everything happens, you know when you finally get to rule the world." He grinned.
"Yes, well. That would suit me also," Winterbell replied quietly.
"Trebonius is going to be out for your head, you know."
"I know. I need to get rid of him as soon as possible. I just need some things in writing from Estir and Skink."
"He's not a bad person."
"But with the way things are now, he's not going to step down quietly."
"I don't believe you ever planned to let him step down quietly," Marayan said with a hint of accusation in his voice.
Winterbell shrugged and grinned, "He's a menace. I shan't miss him."
"And you're confident you're going to win? He might be mad, but he won't be a pushover."
"He'll be good practice for killing Gotheren," Winterbell said lightly, although she was less certain about the outcome of that inevitable fight.

Marayan looked rather dubious, but made no comment. Winterbell went over and talked to the other guild captains, and together they wrote a formal letter, announcing their support for Winterbell's challenge. After that Skink took his leave and other people started drifting home and eventually Winterbell did the same.

The next day Winterbell collected all three staffs and bid Masaline to send her to Vivec.
"I really wish it wasn't like this," Masaline said, "but I guess, you know best."

Winterbell said she doubted it, and in a flurry of magicka she vanished.

Winterbell was anticipated, as she knew she would be. Trebonius was furious, and he had several mages ranged behind him, as if he expected Winterbell to attack him then and there. Winterbell had no such plans – there was a protocol to be observed for these sorts of things, at least in the Guild.

Gayadar was there also, by himself, and he looked for the first time pleased to see Winterbell. She could only guess what Trebonius had been saying to him.

"Winterbell, you-"
"Am here to replace you," Winterbell interrupted him with a stony expression. "In accordance with Guild practice I have consulted my fellow Captains on the matter and they have expressed, in writing, their support."She didn't mention that the support from the Caldera quarter had been obtained before she had been revealed as Telvanni.

The mages behind Trebonius began to look a little uncomfortable. Winterbell handed Gaydar the pieces of paper and he carried them over to Trebonius, who snatched them out of his hands so hard he flinched.

"This is impossible, a forgery-"
"I was there last night," one of the mages spoke up, "in Balmora. They're no forgeries, Trebonius." And with that he quietly moved away from the group, not to stand with Winterbell, but to the side.

Winterbell waited patiently for the wheels to turn inside Trebonius's head. She half expected his mind to give way completely, but eventually he put down the paper with surprising calm.
"I see, so that's how it is."
"You brought this all on yourself, Archmage," Winterbell said mockingly.
Trebonius appeared not to hear her. Instead he drew himself up and in a surprisingly dignified manner declared, "I will meet you in the arena, Councillor. I accept your challenge, and I will take it upon myself to prove that the Guild," he glanced over at Gaydar, "the true Guild, will never allow itself to be governed by Telvanni."

Winterbell scowled. This wasn't the kind of articulate speech she wanted to hear from her enemy. Still, hopefully mere words would soon be forgotten by what would come next.
"Then I'll see you in the arena," Winterbell said, and indicating that Gaydar should follow, she turned and walked out.

As the one being challenged, it was up to Trebonius to choose the time for the fight. Winterbell knew he'd pick the first available slot and had taken the precaution of finding out beforehand when it was. Winterbell told Gaydar to spread the news, both to the rest of the Guild at to Telvanni. This was going to be political theatre of the best kind, and she knew quite a few people would want front row seats.

Several hours later, the Arena began to fill. There were shows on most of the time, but when something important happened ordinary people could find their tickets declared null and void so those with money and power could take their places ringside.

Winterbell was below, in one of the many little rooms the fighters prepared in. With her was Gaydar, who was trying to secure both the Wizard's staff and the Staff of War on her back.
"Well it might be symbolic," Winterbell said, "but it's dammed uncomfortable."

In the seats above, the majority of the Balmora Mage's Guild was discussing the fight in nervous whispers. There was a ripple of conversation around the stands as Aryon and his entourage arrived.
Estirdalin nudged Ajira while looking at the Telvanni mage, "You know, I can sort of see why she joined, now."
Aryon looked over at the mages and nodded politely and warily.
"In a couple days we could be in the same organization," Masaline said, sounding more cheerful about the whole thing than she had since it started.
"Trebonius is here," Galbedir said, and the group, indeed the whole Arena, fell silent.

Trebonius strode out into the Arena, sand staining the hem of his robe. He had a dagger at his belt, but carried no staff. Everyone knew this would be a fight of magic, rather than weapons. The Archmage glanced around at the audience, reserving a venomous glare for the Telvanni contingent, which also included a fair number of Vivec based Telvanni, who rarely got to observe anything of importance to the House.

The crowd was just beginning to grow restive when the second set of doors opened, and Winterbell stalked into the Arena. In her hand she held the Staff of Magnus, and Master Aryon observed it with interest. Winterbell was very aware of the audience, and she betrayed not the slightest hint of nervousness.

She eyed Trebonius with quiet confidence, and smiled, inviting him to take the first shot. So he did. Trebonius summoned neither fire nor frost; instead a cloud of magic toxin formed around Winterbell. With a graceful gesture, Winterbell used the staff.

Winterbell strolled out of the cloud as if it were nothing but morning mist. She raised her hand and the fight began in earnest.

Winterbell cast her trademark frost spells, and the sand beneath their feet grew cold and frosted. Trebonius cast again, and Winterbell stumbled out of the way, coughing and retching as her resistances failed her. Trebonius stopped to drink potions, but Winterbell just kept casting.

The crowd was silent, listening to the crackle of magic and the faint incantations. Even the people in the cheaper seats, with no real stake in the outcome of the fight, kept quiet.

Whenever Winterbell's frost ate into Trebonius's skin, the lesions started to heal almost immediately. The deeper wounds remained, but Trebonius refused to give up the fight. He tossed the last of his potions aside and drew his dagger. There was a faint sigh from the crowd; the end was near. Unless he scored a lucky hit with his dagger, Trebonius would fall, with no reserves of magicka left.

Trebonius attacked, and Winterbell dodged out of the way, smacking him in the head with the staff, a move guaranteed to express her contempt to the watching audience. Up in the stands, Marayan shook his head and looked away for a moment.
"End it, Winterbell," he muttered, certain of the outcome.

Winterbell didn't hear him, but she was walking a fine line between showing off and alienating people. Her next fight would be nowhere near as public, so she had to warn would-be challengers off now.

Trebonius stumbled, recovered and came at Winterbell again, his teeth bared in a snarl. Winterbell dropped her staff and grabbed Trebonius's wrist with her left hand. In a contest of physical strength she was hopelessly outclassed, but all she wanted to do was control Trebonius's swing just long enough for her to get her free hand around his throat.

Winterbell hissed out a final spell and Trebonius choked. He tried to say something but nothing came out. There was real fear in those mad, dark eyes for a second, and then, like a felled tree, he hit the sands, and his eyes were empty. Around his neck was a hideous purplish bruise – the skin like ice.

Winterbell walked over and picked up the Staff, carefully brushing off a few sand grains. She leaned on it, feeling sick and drained, before kneeling down over Trebonius's corpse and removing the amulet from around his neck.

Winterbell looked around at the crowd, and someone started clapping. The people in the cheap seats stood up first; a fight between mages was a spectacle to be applauded, and the rest of the stands followed suit, with varying levels of enthusiasm.

Winterbell waited until the noise had died away. She concentrated on not looking as ill as she felt as she walked towards the Telvanni section. She kept her eyes fixed on Aryon, who waited impassively.

She raised her staff, and the stands quieted. She smiled mirthlessly,
"Tell Gotheren he's next!"