Chapter Three

The Way it was Before

Osen found Balkan on the roof again. It had become sort of a sanctuary for the High Lord. A place for him to think. And Balkan had been doing a lot of thinking recently. Things were changing for the Guild. It couldn't go back to the way it was before, he knew. The magicians' mustn't remain ignorant any longer. There were choices to be made, especially regarding black magic. Balkan had let it rest for a while after the invasion. At first it was for the sake of Sonea. He knew she would be essential for knowledge in this matter. Then, when she had had time, it was something else. Some had begun to pressure Balkan for a decision. At least for talks of a decision. But, he could not give an answer. Truthfully, the High Lord wished everythingcould go back to the way it was before. Everything was much less more complicated then. Everything made sense. Now, it had been five years. Sonea was still grieving, he knew, but she had approached him saying she was still willing to help. She had gone to the others as well. They all agreed it was time. That was the reason Balkan found himself being approached by Osen.

"It is time for the meeting," he was reminded by the Administrator. Balkan sighed heavily.

"So it is indeed. I still wish we could put it off."

"And I as well, but you know this needs to be done," Osen said gently. Balkan was about to move, when he saw a familiar figure clad in black robes escorted by a form in purple move toward the Guildhall.

"How much do you think Sonea will be able to help?" Osen asked, breaking the brief silence.

"I think she will be able to assist us greatly," the High Lord told his colleague, finally moving. It would not look good to be late.

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Sonea stopped before the large doors of the Guildhall. She knew this wasn't a formal meet and only higher magicians would attend, but she could not help her nervousness. Rothen, accompanying her, also came to a halt. "It'll be fine, you know," he said, hoping to reassure her.

"I . . . hope you're right," was all she could manage. Her small hand gripped his arm tightly as they resumed walking. Sonea noticed that none of the higher magicians were in their seats. They were all milling around the front of the dais, talking. As the pair approached, Vinara gave the two a smile.

"We were just discussing a move to another area. Perhaps the High Lord would be willing to put us up in his residence. There is only a few of us and it would be far more cozy than here," she told them both. The healer's eyes flickered to something behind them, causing Rothen to turn. Sonea already had a guess as to who was coming.

"An excellent idea," Balkan agreed, startling a few magicians with his sudden appearance. "Shall we move there instead?" He beckoned and they all began to follow. Sonea liked the idea of a new location, just not getting there. That would mean she would have more time to become more anxious. Vinara, sensing that, spoke to her.

"How is little Arlen doing? Getting into plenty of mischief?" Sonea nodded, glad for a conversation. She began to speak in earnest of her son. Others, catching the conversation, smiled at the little boy's triumphs and defeats. Balkan heard as well, but he never forgot that who this boy's parents were.

They approached the residence in a matter of minutes, and the door opened to Takan. The High Lord murmured something about wine to the servant, and he scurried off. Leading the magicians to an entertaining room, Balkan's own apprehension grew. It was time.

Everyone sat down and got comfortable as Takan reappeared with the wine. He went around the room, pouring glasses. Sonea politely declined, sharing a moment with the man. He nodded slightly, continuing on. When everybody was finally settled, all eyes turned to Balkan.

"Let's begin."

A/N: Thanks so much for the reviews! I've got a handle on the story and now that exams are finished, I'll be writing more frequently. Hope you enjoy!

Permanent Disclaimer: So I don't have to do this the whole story, I own nothing. It's all Trudi's except for my own characters (such as Arlen).